


A time like no other

by Warks1999



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternative Setting - World War II, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warks1999/pseuds/Warks1999
Summary: It was an ever changing world, but a world that would soon be at War, with consequences that would devastate families forever... their family included.A new adventure, setting the characters back in time to World War II. Enjoy :)
Relationships: David Donnelly/Orla McCool, James Maguire/Erin Quinn, Michelle Mallon/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 18





	1. Out of Place

**Chapter 1: Out of Place 21** **st** **April 1939**

The warm winds of a late afternoon in mid-Spring, gusted around them as they walked down the long road towards the Mallon household. The four girls were returning home from their work in the factory, another day of hard labour making shirts having come to a close. The Mallon house was their regular destination on a Friday evening, where they would listen to the radio and relax after a taxing week. Friday was their only shorter day, with the four working twelve hours shifts for the rest of the week. Sometimes they would be so tired that they'd just fall asleep there, but those were mostly in the early days of their working lives before they'd properly become accustomed to the rigours and responsibilities of being an adult.

"Did ye hear about Nine Fingers Norah?" Michelle asked the other girls.

"Who?" The blonde-haired Erin replied.

"Ye know… Norah".

"I can't say that I do".

"Me neither". The diminutive Clare gave her input on the matter.

"Norah!" Michelle continued to say the woman's name, throwing her hands around in the air. "Norah…Norah… Norah!"

"That isn't helpin', Michelle!". Erin complained.

The young Mallon huffed at her friends not knowing who Norah was, with Orla not saying anything, instead playing with a flower she'd picked on the way. She was like that though; throughout their years at school, she'd often look out of the window or fall asleep.

"Nine Fingers Norah… works upstairs with the lads".

"Oh that Norah!" Clare suddenly remembered, Erin nodding too.

"Aye that Norah…". Michelle rather sarcastically confirmed. "… well I've heard she's getting a promotion".

"A promotion!?" Erin reared up.

"That's what I thought as well, but Smelly Kelly from the night shift was tellin' me that she's only got it because she's…". Michelle stopped, proceeding to whistle an implication of what Norah was up to. "… with Eddie Walsh in management".

"Catch yourself on!"

"I'm serious Erin!" Michelle protested. "Kelly said she caught them at it in his office last week".

Michelle was well-known for her outlandish tales of sex and debauchery, with neither Erin nor Clare letting themselves believe her again. They'd believed her when she'd explained the story about Maggie McConnell getting knocked up by a seventy year old from Donegal, which turned out to be complete rubbish. _It was a seventeen year old from Dungannon…_

"As if they'd just… ye know… in his office". Clare probed the weak point of the story.

"All over the tables they were she said…".

"Ach come on Michelle, that's shite and ye know it". Erin chuckled, drawing her friend's ire.

Michelle grumbled on for another couple of minutes, arguing her point that Kelly was a trustable source, something which Erin disagreed with vehemently. Orla eventually joined in the conversation, only to take it down a different path altogether as she started to talk about dogs. She loved animals, especially dogs and horses, and often rode out in the countryside with her faithful Labrador Napoleon running alongside whichever horse she'd borrowed. She would often get into trouble with the farmers, with one once shooting at her in an attempt to force her off their land. Not that it mattered to her though, because she just enjoyed the freedom of a Saturday morning ride.

"Ye seein' yer David tonight, Orla?"

Erin put the question across to her cousin, who's face lit up at the mention of David. Once the apple of Erin's eye when they were younger, Orla had begun a relationship with David Donnelly the summer before. He too was one for the outdoors, with the pair often going out into the woods to light fires and on occasions, sleep out in them. Orla's mother didn't seem to mind too much, especially as she'd developed a deep fondness for David over time. He was a helpful young man who would always pay her a compliment or two, great qualities in her eyes. Sarah had missed that since Orla's father died seven years earlier, after being struck down by a terrible bout of flu.

"I might be…". Orla replied, somewhat shyly.

"Look at you Orla, gettin' a bit of action eh?" Michelle elbowed her, a smirk running giddily along her face.

"She isn't!" Erin snapped back.

Clare rolled her eyes at their antics. She never really understood the point of chasing after boys. There was something about it which didn't appeal to her, but she was wise enough not to say anything to anyone, not wishing to be at risk of punishment from her father should he find out. Sean was a strict man who wanted the best for his only child he'd had with Geraldine. A devotion which showed with the lengths he was going to in order to find her a potential suitor. He was yet to realise that her interests were laying elsewhere…

"Calm down Erin. Haven't ye got John-Paul to chase after".

"I… it's just a matter of time Michelle… ye know… besides, we don't have the time to sort things out properly at the moment and…".

"Christ! For the last time…". An annoyed Michelle began to huff out. "…one kiss on the cheek after church doesn't constitute anythin'".

"It was more than a kiss Michelle…".

"It wasn't Erin". Orla confidently came to Michelle's aid. "I was there so I was, and he just kissed ye on the cheek so he did".

"Too much communion wine…".

"That's enough Michelle!" The significantly more pissed off Erin launched at her friend. "We're just figurin' out what we have together that's all".

"Ye haven't even spoken to him since". Clare fairly pointed out.

A point which ended the conversation very quickly.

Orla was correct in her telling of the events of the particular Sunday morning in question. John-Paul O'Reilly had kissed Erin on the cheek outside church, but it was only to say thanks to her for sewing a shirt up for him. Anybody in the world could have told her that, yet Erin wouldn't be swayed from her belief that he'd done it out of a love for her. A love that, to everyone else including her parents, she'd seemingly invented in her apparent infatuation with him. He was one of the most desirable young men of their age in the city, something which even Michelle conceded to Erin when they'd discussed it previously, with plenty of girls their age flushing at the mere sight of him. Erin was the only one that actually dared to believe she had anything more…

They continued to walk along the road to the Mallon house, which was obscured around a corner up the hill. Orla waved to an old lady who was out in her front garden, who smiled at the teenager before waving back. It was a regular occurrence that the other three detested…

"Michelle". Clare spoke lightly, the others coming to look at the frown on her face. "Since when did yer parents own one of those fancy cars".

Looking up at Clare's statement, Michelle spotted the vehicle parked up on the road outside the house. It was a bright red Morgan, a fancy little car that was very much out of place sat in front of the Mallon household. Out of place in Derry completely. It was the sort of car that adorned the manor estate of a country gentleman or another young member of the aristocracy.

"Oh for feck's sake…".

"What is it Michelle?" An inquisitive Orla asked.

A car being present could only mean two things for Michelle, neither of which were appealing. The girls didn't quite know what to make of it as they looked to her for an answer. None of their families owned a car, lacking the wealth to be able to afford the privilege of one. Out of all of them, only Orla had ever even been in a car, as her David drove cars as part of his job as a mechanic, and that was only for a few roads. A flash car outside the Mallon's would certainly drive-up interest with the neighbours too, with Derry not being a place where secrets could be kept so easily.

"Well girls…". Michelle said as they stopped by the Morgan. "… the first possibility is me Aunt Kathy".

"Was she the one…". Clare began to ask.

"The one that fucked off to England to have a secret abortion? Aye that's her…".

The tale of Kathy Maguire was one which she'd told many a time on a rainy evening when there was nothing to do. She was the younger sister of Michelle's mother Deirdre, both being quite attractive in their youth, but Kathy put herself out a hell of a lot more by all accounts. That was how she'd ended up pregnant in the first place, without a clue who the father was, seeing as there was a literal list of candidates as to who it could have been. She'd somehow managed to raise enough funds to leave for England in shame to have the abortion, which was the usual conclusion to the story Michelle told. However, she'd always withheld one very important detail about her Aunt's trip and subsequent stay in England. She'd not had the abortion after all. She'd kept the child and raised him completely on her own… though knowing what she knew about Kathy, Michelle knew it wouldn't have been without the presence of lovers. It was the same child she'd met once at a funeral years before.

"What's the other?" Orla questioned.

"The other is…"

Right on cue, the door to the house opened, the girls turning around to see who was walking out of it. It wasn't Deirdre or Michelle's father Martin. Instead, an incredibly smartly dressed young man strolled out of the house, with a wide smile on his face. His hair was short and slick, too finely kept for someone of their status. He wore a brown, double breasted suit, with two toned chalk stripes that matched on both the jacket and trousers. Within the jacket was a fine white pocket square too, with a red pattern embroidered into it. The young man was so smart in fact, that anyone would have thought a noble man of title was visiting the house that late afternoon.

Michelle, of course, knew otherwise.

"Kathy's son. My English cousin, James".

Clare and Orla both turned to stare at Michelle, who was already angered by the young man's presence. It was a secret that she ideally never wanted to share, but life turned against her, and now it was out there. There was an Englishman in her family. A boy that she hated, despite only having met him the once so many years before. She knew it would be a lot to take in for the girls as well. And whilst it might have been difficult for her, the diminutive blonde Clare or the usually distracted Orla, unbeknownst to them, it was nothing compared to the thoughts and feelings of Erin Quinn at that moment.

She chased after John-Paul with visions in her head, dreams of what a life could be like with him, without ever properly feeling anything inside to validate any true affection. After just one glance at Michelle's wee English cousin, her knees were weak, threatening to buckle, whilst her heart raced like a champion thoroughbred.

He was handsome… so… so handsome.

_Holy mother of god…_


	2. The English Fella

**Chapter 2: The English Fella**

James Maguire ran his eye over the four girls that were stood at the bottom of the garden path. He'd only met his cousin Michelle once, but could pick her out immediately from the line-up of girls in their work uniforms. Her dark hair was reminiscent of Deirdre's, flowing down onto her shoulders, released after having been tied up all day whilst she was working. He remembered little of her character from the funeral years before, though his mother always told him that she was a rude little girl. He didn't quite know how she knew any different, having only met Michelle the once herself, but he trusted her opinion. The other girls, presumably Michelle's friends, were a bit of a mystery.

A tall girl, taller than Michelle, with hair that flowed even further down, stood to the left of his cousin. She appeared to be more interested by some of the flowers in his Aunt and Uncle's front garden than his presence, not that he particularly blamed her for it. There was a smile on the girl's face too, a radiant one which he immediately came to appreciate.

Stood to his cousin's right were two blondes, the first of which was a small girl, who looked incredibly frightened by his presence. James never thought of himself as a scary young fellow, yet this tiny blonde girl appeared to have seen him as some sort of monster from a story designed to scare children. His brows furrowed at the thought of him being monstrous.

Then there was the other blonde. Her cheeks were flushed pink as if she were embarrassed, another reaction that the Englishman couldn't quite understand. Upon a first examination, it made her appear shy to his presence. Assuming that the blondes were both perturbed by him being there, he thought nothing more of the pink cheeks. _But there was something different about her…_

Walking down the path to greet his cousin and introduce himself to her friends, he didn't miss the snarl that was sent in his direction. It appeared Kathy was correct in her description. Michelle was just as nasty as she'd warned.

"Michelle…". He began cheerfully. "… it has been a lo-".

"Stop talkin'!" She shouted back at him.

Coming to a stop in front of the four girls, he could confirm that his mother was most certainly correct. Unwilling to dwell on the thought, he glanced to his left, noticing that the blonde whose cheeks were pink from a distance, carried an even more enflamed colour across her face as he'd drawn closer, with James still none the wiser as to why it had coloured in the first place.

"Is there a problem?" He continued to talk.

"Are ye deaf? I said stop talkin' James". His cousin snapped back.

"Now come on Michelle, I know we barely know each other…".

"Yeah, let's keep it that way!"

It had all been such a rush in leaving London, that he never found the time to ask his mother about anything he should avoid in Derry. Having left the city many years earlier, Kathy held no love for the place she called home and would keep discussion about it to a minimum in the capital. James attributed this to an unhappy childhood, though she'd often spoke of better times with Deirdre, which dented that view.

"As you wish…". James spoke again, hiding his growing frustration, utilising his gentlemanly conduct. "… but will you at least introduce me to your friends?"

"Ugh! Fine!" Michelle huffed, continuing to act with open resentment towards him. "This, is Orla… Orla, my cousin James…".

Michelle started with the girl who he'd noted to be distant earlier on. She was not acting so as he stood before her, taking an active interest into finding out who he was. The smile had stayed on her face throughout, and unlike Michelle, this Orla seemed to already enjoy his presence. Keeping in line with the gentlemanly fashion that his mother had raised him with, he sought her hand to press a light kiss to her fingers. But yet again, it displeased his bullish cousin.

"Oi! Don't ye be tryin' yer dirty English moves on her, she's taken for!"

Ignoring his cousin, James continued on to place a kiss onto Orla's knuckles, with the tall girl nodding her appreciation at him having done so. Michelle grunted and groaned at him, not that he cared. He'd only reintroduced himself to her a couple of minutes before and already he was coming to understand the type of person she was. There was going to be a lot of soaking up of abuse, that was for sure.

He moved on past Michelle, who contemplated slapping him for a brief second until she saw that Deirdre was now watching on from the door. Conflict with her mother never ended well, so she withdrew her wishful thoughts of hurting her cousin, leaving them to bubble for another time. James reached for Clare's hand too, though she pulled it away as soon as he reached in.

"Ach come on Clare, he's just bein' a gent".

The other blonde spoke up in his defence, to James's complete surprise. The air of hostility that Michelle created disappeared for a moment as this other girl spoke in a calm and reassuring tone. He nodded his thanks to her, noticing that her cheeks remained as pink as they had been from the moment she'd looked towards him as exited the house. Her words did have an effect on her friend Clare though, as the smaller of the two blondes returned her hand towards him, with James once again placing a kiss to the knuckles. He had to ignore the gagging sound from Michelle as he did…

"And you are?"

James addressed his question to the pink-cheeked blonde who'd come to his aid a couple of moments before. Perhaps she was naturally shy, he began to think to himself, as although her previous comment suggested otherwise, the girl looked away from him for a brief second. But just as soon as she did, her eyes glanced back to his once more.

"Erin… Erin Quinn".

"Erin…". He flashed her a pleasant grin as he took her hand. "… I owe you my thanks".

The next few seconds in the life of Erin Quinn became of great significance to her. James planted the kiss to her knuckles and what it did to her inside was incredible. It was as if someone had thrown her onto one of the overhead power lines, sparks flying as her emotions crashed into something new. The new sensation of having James's lips on her skin. In the seconds after, as he pulled away with a wide smile etched across his face, she couldn't shake the thought that his lips lingered on her knuckles for a second longer than they had done on Orla's or Clare's. She couldn't voice those thoughts to her friends of course; they didn't believe what she had with John-Paul, so they would never believe her if she told them what she thought about James.

_Christ!_

John-Paul was fast becoming an afterthought as Michelle's handsome cousin stood in front of her. There was something refreshing about James that Erin didn't see in John-Paul, David or any of the other lads from Derry. He might not have looked as muscular or as rugged as they did, but there was a charming sophistication about the English fella. He was very beau…

_No! No! NO!_

Erin stopped herself. It hadn't even been five minutes. _Was that how easy she was?_

The other three girls may not have picked up on her pink cheeks or shy demeanour, but Erin knew exactly what was going on. The concept of love at first sight was once she'd written about in some of her creative works that she kept at home, when a romantic young girl would gaze upon her hero. She was suddenly the romantic young girl… and she was gazing.

"Seeing as you aren't so keen on talking…". James spoke up to address Michelle once again. "… I shall leave you in peace".

"Good!" Michelle scoffed back, moving her arm up to point at something in the distance. "England's that way ye stuck up prick".

"Michelle!" Clare admonished her for the language.

"Thank you for the directions". He chuckled. "Alas, England is not my destination. I will be back here tomorrow morning Michelle, don't worry".

The urge to either slap or even punch James became increasingly harder for Michelle to ignore, especially as he finished his sentence off with a brand of sarcasm which she was usually known for. Luckily for James, he'd already moved to walk around the girls, exiting the property in order to get into his car. Orla and Clare were both smiling as he passed. Though she may have been reluctant to accept his gentlemanly kiss on the hand at first, Clare admired the way that the young man brushed off his cousin's insults. Orla too was coming to the conclusion that he was a good fella, though he was no David Donnelly to her, that was for sure.

"I… fuck!" Michelle cursed as James drove off down the road.

"He seems nice…". Orla commented, with Michelle turning to stare at her.

"Nice? Nice!? He's English Orla… English!"

"I don't have a problem with that".

"Neither do I". Clare agreed with her.

"Erin?"

Michelle turned to her for reinforcement in the sentiment, but the voicing of her name sailed in one ear and out of the other for Erin. She was busy watching the car disappear off down the road, unable to take her eyes off of James. Only a light nudge in the ribs from Clare's elbow brought her back into the real world, where she was scared stiff in an instant, praying that the girls hadn't noticed her staring.

"S-… sorry what was that Michelle?"

"Dreamin' about ridin' John-Paul again, pfff!" She scoffed. "James being English is a fuckin' problem isn't it?".

It was a problem for Erin. But not in the same way it was for Michelle. He was her cousin… he didn't make her blush like he had done Erin and Michelle's palms didn't begin to sweat at the mere sight of him either. But before Erin could give any form of an answer, she was saved.

"MICHELLE MALLON!"

Deirdre's roar prompted the four of them to jump out of their skins, turning around to find a face of thunder awaiting them. The other girls were spared her anger, but the language that her daughter used was completely unacceptable in the ground of their house. Keen to remind Michelle, Deirdre resorted to bellowing in order to do so.

"I WILL NOT HEAR THAT LANGUAGE FROM YOU AGAIN! DO YE UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Would have been hard not to". Michelle foolishly snorted.

Clare and Erin winced in unison at her attempt to stand up to her mother, Orla's eyes widening in surprise too. If there was one tip that any of them could have given to anyone about surviving Derry as a child, then not answering back to your mother would be the tip. Clouded with a rebellious nature however, Michelle did not always heed her own advice…

"DON'T YE BE SMART WITH ME! Ye can clean the house tonight for that!"

"Ma!"

"Wise up Michelle! Ye know the rules… and yer goin' to have to get used to yer cousin, so ye better start bein' nicer to him!"

"WHAT!?"

Michelle might have shouted it, but Erin was thinking it too. Michelle's cousin being devilishly handsome for just a short visit was bad enough, but Deirdre seemed to be implying that it would be more than just a short stay. _How the hell was she going to maintain her calm?_

"Ye best have a read of this".

A second later, Deirdre thrust a letter into Michelle's hands and the girls crowded around to read it.

_Dear Deirdre,_

_I trust that yourself, Martin and Michelle are keeping well._

_I must first convey my apologies to you about this. I have not had the time to notify you in advance with another letter as it has been all so sudden. My work requires me to move away onto the continent, and I can't take James with me. As much as he's a mature young man, I would fear leaving him alone in London without anyone else to watch over him in the family. Hence why you have this letter and James is stood in front of you._

_I have bought a little cottage for him to live in just outside of the city, with instructions to visit you daily on his return from work. I have found him a job as a Junior manager at the Ulster Bank too, and he starts there from Monday the twenty-fourth. Other than his daily visit, he shouldn't bother you, but if you want to visit him at any point, then I'm sure James will give you the address. However, should he give yourself or the family any trouble during his stay, then you have my blessing to deliver him the strictest punishment, even if he is a man now! I'm sure you still have to discipline your Michelle from time to time too!_

_Regretfully, I cannot say how long I will be away in Europe, but I promise to write to you ahead of my return, whenever that may be. I am not sure of my address for the meantime, so please do not attempt to write back as anything that is posted to the address in London will not be forwarded._

_Your loving Sister Kathy_

_P.s James comes with a car too, so do feel free to ask him to run any errands in it. I'm sure he will be delighted to help._

"Great!" Michelle shouted.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set for the evening over the skies of Derry. The big clock in the living room of the Quinn house had just struck eight as the darkness of another Friday night loomed on the horizon. The room featured its two usual guests from outside of the house, Granda Joe and Sarah, who would come round every evening from next door. Orla lived with the two of them, whilst Erin and her little sister Anna occupied the Quinn house with their parents, Mary and Gerry. With the amount of time that they spent in each other's homes, they may as well have just knocked the wall in the middle down to make one huge house for them all to roam around freely in. Though that sounded like far too sensible a suggestion for any of them to make, despite it having been made by countless other visitors in the past.

"Those wains still aren't home yet Mary!" Joe complained to his daughter.

"Ach give them time Da!"

"Time!?" Joe flared up in anger. "Alice Rafferty gave her wains time and…".

"And they ended up being pulled out the Foyle… we've heard the story twenty times before Da". She huffed in return.

Joe gave his daughter a glare, before continuing to read a book in his armchair. It was a favoured pastime for him in his older age, with precious little else for him to do outside of helping with the housework next door. On some nights he'd go off clay pigeon shooting with his brother Colm and some friends, but Colm was attending a meeting of the parish council that night and couldn't go.

The floorboards of the stairs creaked, indicating the imminent return of Gerry from upstairs, whilst also warning that Joe would be angered again, as he was not at all fond of his son in-law.

"Is Anna asleep?" Mary asked her husband.

"Aye that she is love". Gerry answered, leaning down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

"Wee Anna's gettin' good at that sleepin' like". Sarah piped up from her spot at the dining table.

There were nods of agreement from all of them. Getting Anna settled at night was a challenge, but the now three year old youngest daughter of Mary and Gerry was an angel at night. It was a relief for the two of them, with both having so many interrupted nights since her birth, which impacted greatly on their work performance in the day that would follow. Mary, along with Sarah, worked with the girls at the factory, albeit in a different section. They worked the same shifts, twelve hour shifts from Monday to Thursday, with a shorter shift on Friday for an earlier finish. Gerry worked at the ferry port as one of the train drivers down at the railway yard in the docks, shifting goods from the various warehouses to the relevant vessels and so forth. Being able to get a good night's sleep was paramount.

"Right you…". Joe got up from his armchair, addressing his words to Gerry. "… get going and find those wains ye useless shite".

"Da, language!" Mary reminded him.

"The kids aren't here now Mary… and this stupid bastard is just standin' around. Go and find them!"

"I'm sure they'll be fine Joe". Gerry attempted to reassure him, ignoring the blatantly incorrect comment that insinuated laziness on his behalf.

"Oh yer sure are ye?" Joe rounded on him. "That means nothin' to me! Christ, I trust those dirty krauts more than you!"

"Da! Enough!"

Mary was forced to get sterner with her father, which succeeded in him backing down, but not before he mumbled another comment about Gerry under his breath. It was a regular performance at home, although it was usually without the swearing, with Joe never having a kind word to say about Gerry. It was a miracle that he'd even been allowed to marry her in the first place, only being able to as their marriage came at a particularly low point in Joe's life. He'd just come back from fighting in the Great War, having volunteered when the call came, returning to find that his wife Marie passed away in his absence. He was in no position to deny Gerry entry to the family then, but had never given the man an easy time since, in the apparent belief that his son in-law from Roscommon was no good for his daughter.

Before they could lock horns again, the front door opened and the living room was soon occupied by Erin and Orla, who arrived at speed.

"You wains are back late?"

Mary eyed the two suspiciously, her wooden spoon in hand. The wooden spoon was the family misbehaviour deterrent, having kept generations of the McCool side of the family in line over the years. Anna was too young to face the spoon, but Erin's occasional rebellious outbursts called for the threat of the spoon and it usually was deployed to full usage when Orla made a ridiculous comment. On the worst occasions, it would leave a whacking great bruise on the skin of whoever was on the end of the beating, Mary herself knowing what it felt like from years earlier when Marie would use her own spoon on both of her daughters. It kept delinquency within the family to a minimum though, which had always worked and would continue to work as long as she drew breath.

"Aye Mammy, and we have news!" Erin somewhat excitedly told her.

"What's Michelle done this time?" Mary questioned, jumping to the conclusion that the news would pertain to their group's troublemaker.

"Michelle's cousin has come to live in Derry… from England".

Mary nearly dropped the spoon at her daughter's comment. Deirdre only had one sibling, but Kathy Maguire left years before to have an abortion in shame. Being close friends as they were, she'd never mentioned to Mary about Michelle having a cousin, which only served to enhance how shocking the news was to her. Then again, if he or she spoke with an English accent, then it was hardly a surprise. Having an English in the family was hardly something to shout from the rooftops.

"I didn't know Kathy had a wain". Sarah looked at the girls incredulously.

"It's true Mammy!" Orla exclaimed. "He was there when we went back to the Mallon's after work".

"He?" Mary asked.

"Aye that's right Aunt Mary, his name is James".

James. The name suddenly jolted Erin back to her emotions of earlier in the day. She was picturing his smartly trimmed hair, his perfect suit with its accompanying pocket square, _his handsome face…_

"And Erin was blushin' at the sight of him, so she was".

 _Oh no!_ Orla had only gone and noticed the turmoil Erin was put through at just the sight of the Englishman! She could feel her cheeks reddening in anger at her cousin for revealing the truth, a truth she didn't understand how her cousin could have realised, having barely come to terms with it herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of her mother's eyebrows raising at the comment, only heightening Erin's internal panic.

"I was jokin!" Orla shouted gleefully, with Erin sighing relief internally.

"Aye right…".

Mary didn't seem so convinced that it was just a joke. She'd seen the startled expression on the face of her daughter at Orla's comment on how she'd reacted to the presence of the English stranger. Being English would do him no favours in the city, and the last thing Mary wanted was the boy bringing their family name into disrepute by association with Erin.

"What were the eyebrows like girls?

Sarah's question took Mary away from her suspicious thoughts about James, to a different train of thought entirely. Back in the day, when they were friends with Kathy, her eyebrows were stunning, the most immaculately kept in the whole of Ireland in their opinion, if not the rest of the living world. Her eyebrows hadn't been seen or discussed in years, but naturally Sarah had come to the conclusion that the boy would have inherited the beautiful brows of his mother…. _Of course she would ask as well…_

"What do ye mean?" Erin's brows furrowed as she replied.

"His eyebrows… were they lookin' well? Kathy used to have the finest eyebrows around when she was yer age, isn't that right Mary?"

"Let's not discuss Kathy any more than we need to Sarah…". Mary grumbled. "… as far I'm concerned, she's a disgrace for runnin' away like that".

"Woah no Mary!" Sarah raised her voice. "Yer being unfair there. Kathy and her eyebrows… well they're different entities so they are. And this James, how were his eyebrows lookin?"

"I don't think I noticed". Orla replied slightly dejectedly.

"Me neither!" Erin was quick to add.

Except that was a lie. She had noticed when she thought about it properly. She didn't know what the measurements on the scale of judgement were when it came to eyebrows, but James' eyebrows were most definitely looking well. _Then again, so was the rest of him…_

_NO!_

Erin's mind was leading her astray again, with only the quick thinking of her left hand to pinch herself in the side saving her from any unwanted questions.

To Mary's dismay, discussions about Kathy Maguire, her eyebrows and the young fella James rumbled on for another ten minutes, with Joe and Gerry both adding their own thoughts to the conversation, the former mostly to smite the latter. Orla told them of what was said in the letter about Kathy having to move away to Europe without him, wanting to have someone to keep him in check in her absence. It all sounded very odd to Mary, but perhaps that was the way in which people lived over the other side of the sea; having never been to England, she could only presume it was. The detail of James driving a car suggested to her that he must have some degree of wealth behind him if he owned one at aged eighteen. Still, she would render her final judgement on meeting the Englishman, which was inevitable given that he would be staying for an undetermined amount of time.

The back and forth about those topics were coming to a natural end when the front door opened again. Orla raced off to it, as she knew it would be her David arriving to see her. He always came to meet her at either her house or her Aunt's next door when they would see each other. That night he'd already been to her door to find out after a minute or two that no one was in, changing course for next door after determining that she would be there instead.

They entered the living room, Orla wrapping herself around his side as David came to rest an arm around her. He was smartly dressed himself, wearing his best grey jumper that was very similar to the one that Joe wore himself that evening. It was with Orla's Granda that he shared a look, one that Gerry picked up on and couldn't quite understand. It all became clear a minute later though.

"Evening David son". Joe greeted him.

"Alright there Joe?" The young man enquired, a grin from ear to ear.

"Aye I'm grand Son". He replied to Orla's fella.

"Good. Is everyone else alright then?"

There were nods of confirmation or muttered replies from all of them. Once upon a time, Erin would have felt nervous around David, given the crush she used to have on him, but their personalities had grown apart since those days. She was happy for Orla though, as David was the perfect fit for her cousin. Sensible enough to counteract Orla's often blatant disregard for certain aspects of life, but still enough of an eejit to make her happy.

"Have ye got something to tell us David?"

Everyone else in the room, sans David and Orla, traded glances between the couple and Granda Joe. There were knowing looks on the faces of the two men, similar to the ones that Gerry identified when David arrived a few moments prior.

"Aye… that we have".


	3. Turning Heads

**Chapter 3: Turning Heads 22nd** **April 1939**

The sunshine of the early morning nipped at James's skin as he drove to the Mallon house. Having bought a map the moment he reached Ireland, he was yet to find use for it, as everywhere so far had been easy to locate. The cottage was only a short distance away from the city, and being the only one around that area, it didn't take a genius to figure out that it was his. There were fields between the cottage and the city, with a little stream that ran through the vast rear garden. Having spent the entirety of his life in the often-dirty conditions of the city of London, the idealistic images of a country life that he pictured in his head were realised when he first arrived at the cottage the day before.

Finding his way back to the Mallon house was just as easy. However, there was a change that he'd noticed as he drove through the streets. The day before he'd barely seen a soul, and those who he had seen, didn't seem to be phased by his presence as he drove by. Yet the following morning, the citizens of Derry were out in their gardens staring at him in their droves. He wasn't used to such attention in the capital, with no one other than his immediate neighbours at the time ever glancing his way. It was the latest in a string of nuances that he was discovering in his new home. Barely twenty four hours had ticked by since his arrival, yet he was already aware of the significant cultural difference to London.

Pulling up outside the Mallon house, he could see eyes drawn to him from across the street. Sticking out like a sore thumb as he drove a car, no one else on that street doing so, he supposed it was natural that there would be some form of curiosity. Yet it wasn't him who they were staring at. It was over the car and into the front garden of the Mallon house where the attention was drawn to, owing to the ensuing argument between Deirdre and her daughter.

"Don't ye answer back to me, young Lady!" Deidre yelled at her.

"Ye can't do this to me Mammy!" Michelle shouted back.

"I can and I very much will!" Her mother was standing her ground. "He's yer cousin, yer goin' to be helpin' out in getting him settled. He's family Michelle!"

"He's English!"

"Aye. We can't change his accent, but we can make him feel at home and toughen him up a little". Deirdre was insistent.

"He might not want to feel at home!" Michelle continued to argue.

"Well seeing as he's here, ye can ask him that".

Michelle turned around to see James walking up the garden path towards them. He wasn't as smartly dressed as the day before, but retained a modicum degree of wealth to his look, with a fine jumper over his shirt and tie. His hair was just as slick as it was the day before, showing an effort on his part in keeping himself looking at his best. Even Michelle, who hated him being there, would have to admit that he was a handsome gentleman. Clearly he'd received the same genes as she had from the past generations of the family.

"Good morning Aunt Deirdre… Michelle".

"Ach morning to you James". Deirdre responded as cheerfully as she would let herself. "Did ye find the place alright last night?"

"Perfectly well thank you. It's lovely". He replied gratefully.

"That's grand, we'll have to come up one day". His aunt spoke softly, smiling at him.

"You're more than welcome to".

Annoyed by her mother's kindness towards James, Michelle grumbled quietly to herself by Deirdre's side. The last thing they should be doing was making him feel like one of the family. Because he wasn't. Even if he really was. He just couldn't be a part of their family, as that would mean that she would have to put up with the endless mocking from the other girls at the factory for having an English cousin, sniggers from the gossipers in the next section along that would be unending. At least if she showed open disdain towards him, he might think twice about staying in Derry, which would lead to him returning to England, the outcome that Michelle desired.

"Is there anything I can do to help now that I am here?". James asked his Aunt. "Does Uncle Martin require my help with anything?"

"Ach myself and Martin are alright, so we are love, but I need ye to do something for our Michelle here".

"Ma!" She launched a final protest at her mother.

"My word is final Michelle!"

"What can I do to assist?" James calmed the pair down with his soothing tone.

Michelle folded her arms in a childish strop, conceding defeat to her mother whilst sulking alongside her. Deirdre was far from impressed with her daughter. Mary Quinn wasn't the only woman in Derry to enforce household rules with a wooden spoon, an item which would refamiliarising itself with the back of Michelle's hand later that evening.

Deirdre bent down to pick up an item that was on the floor behind her, turning back around again to reveal a bowl in her hands.

"I have this big bowl that I want the Quinn's to have and I was going to send Michelle round with it, but seein' as ye have the car, there's less chance of Michelle droppin' it if ye could take her there".

"I'd be delighted to…". James beamed to his appreciative Aunt. "… providing Michelle could give me more of her excellent directions of course?"

"Don't ye worry James, she will. Won't ye Michelle?"

Deirdre ended with a firmer question to her daughter, who didn't put up a fight to her mother this time around, mumbling a 'Yes Mammy', looking down the road and away from her cousin. An act that would earn another strike on the back of her hand with the spoon later on.

"I'll leave ye to it then, just get her back for dinner this evening ye hear?"

"Of course Aunt Deirdre".

Walking back into the house, Deirdre was already looking forward to utilising James for her needs. After all, Kathy told her she could, so it was a privilege that could be abused. The young man would see it as helping his aunt, and being the gentleman that he was, he followed the orders without question. She could get used to that.

"Come on then Michelle". James said to her, tilting his head in the direction of the car.

The big bowl in her hands, she reluctantly trudged off behind her cousin to his Morgan, which gleamed in the sunlight. A fancy car like that turning up outside the Quinn's would probably give Mary a seizure, though in doing so would turn them all against James, which would be beneficial in the long run.

"I've never been in a car before". She stated to him, prompting James to look back over his shoulder at her. "Don't get me killed or anythin'!"

"I'll try my best".

James bravely mocked her in the face of her snarling, putting Michelle into her place. Not many people had the audacity to even question her word outside of her parents and friends, and even some of them wouldn't dare risk open opposition to her. He was different however, deftly accepting her resentment whilst he built his response, finely crafted and well-timed once it was issued. She was going to have her work cut out to obtain dominion over him.

She took her spot in the passenger seat, amazed by the luxury of the vehicle. The seats were incredibly comfortable, far more so than the furniture back at home, her back instantly sinking into them. The lack of a roof was noted too at first, but James explained how it worked with pulling the cover up from behind them if it were to rain. It still seemed stupid to her not to have a permanent roof on the car… then again, he was English, and they were a bunch of thick bastards.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Not… quite…".

She stopped to clear her throat, in order to make herself clear to him for what she was about to say.

"Don't go embarrassin' me ye hear? The Quinn's are good friends of the family, I won't have ye fuckin' up our friendship with them because ye can't keep yer stupid English gob shut".

He was slightly disheartened by her automatic assumption that he would act in a way that would disrupt the friendship between families. It was yet another note for his growing list, with Michelle being the main contributor so far.

"You have my word dear cousin".

"Now listen here, ye honey wording English f-".

Revving up the engine of the Morgan, James laughed to himself, pulling off the edge of the road at pace to Michelle's horror. She screamed for the first few seconds, the new sensation of being in a moving vehicle casting terror into her conscience.

It did shut her up though.

And for that, James was grateful.

* * *

"It's that house there with… oh for fuck's sake, why are those two outside?!"

James rolled his eyes at the latest poor language on his cousin's behalf. Erin and Clare were stood outside the Quinn house, in the little front garden, playing with what looked like a Labrador. He'd never owned a pet himself, but one of his friends back in London had a lovely black Labrador called Dylan.

"Is there a problem?" A mystified James enquired with her.

"Not very smart are ye?!" She huffed in return, making him regret ever opening his mouth. "Ye best have this whilst I go and find out the craic".

She thrusted the big bowl onto his lap, exiting the vehicle and heading straight towards her friends who were waiting. Chuckling to himself, James sat for a few seconds, wondering how he was going to put up with Michelle for the rest of the day. And also, what on earth 'craic' meant...

"Michelle!" Clare called her name delightedly as the dark-haired girl acrobatically vaulted the garden wall.

"Christ, yer not frettin', that's somethin".

"I'm so happy!"

"Me too!" Erin shouted. "Ach ye won't believe it Michelle!"

"This better be good girls…". She huffed.

"Orla and David are getting married!"

Clare's shout properly stunned Michelle into silence, which was a mean feat given that her mouth often took a lot of stopping.

"And she's pregnant!"

If the first announcement stunned the young Mallon, the second one from Erin nearly swept her off her feet like the poor woman in one of Colm's stories. Orla hadn't even been seeing David for a year and suddenly they were engaged, expecting a child. She was barely eighteen, having only reached the milestone in February, aptly on Valentine's Day. _And she'd spent the night at David's that night…_

"Stall the ball!"

As Michelle entered a minor disbelief crisis, James appeared from behind her, smiling away in his dapper outfit. Erin could feel her cheeks burning again as the handsome Englishman strode up the garden path to her house, handing the big bowl back to his cousin as he drew alongside her. She was lucky that Michelle and Clare were too busy arguing about the morality of such a young marriage for Orla, to notice her reaction to James. That busy in fact that they began to walk off in the direction of the house due to Michelle's wish to confront the newly engaged couple. Napoleon the dog followed them in too, leaving Erin suddenly alone with the Englishman and suddenly very much aware that she was going to have to try to make conversation with him, without doing any rash.

"Good morning there Erin".

Jesus Christ!

He'd remembered her name!

There was the brief candle of hope on her behalf that he wouldn't have, making it awkward for him and easier for her to laugh and brush him off… but no he'd gone and remembered her name, which was only endearing the handsome bastard to her even more.

"Ach…erm… hel-hello there… erm… John".

The Englishman giggled at her getting his name wrong, again fate throwing her the outcome that she did not want. She would have hoped he would have been offended by it and stopped speaking to her, but once more her cheeks burned at him. His giggle was alluring… _very alluring…_

"Hello. It's erm…". He coughed to hide his amusement. "… James not… John".

"Of course… sorry".

She scratched at the back of her neck anxiously as he continued to smile at her. If the two were truly alone, in a place far from Derry or anyone that they knew, she'd be honest with him and tell him just what one glance from him did to her. The problem was that they weren't, a problem which was demonstrated aptly when her Granda Joe marched out the house a second later.

As they exited the house, Joe, Sarah, Mary and Gerry received their first viewing of Kathy Maguire's secret son. The slick haired Englishman was stood taking to their Erin, the sun shining onto him to radiate him across the horizon.

"He's Kathy's boy alright…". Mary spoke first.

"Look at the eyebrows on him…". Sarah's mouth was hanging open as she alluded to the Maguire family trait.

Kathy Maguire was a beautiful woman, and her son was just as beautiful. Mary and Sarah were almost staring in wonder at the handsome young man who was chatting away to Erin. Everything about him screamed sophistication too, immaculately presented as if he were visiting King George at the Palace rather than their humble abode. He wasn't asked, but Gerry thought to himself at just how well-groomed the young Maguire was, smart shoes and slick hair, as well as a fancy car in the distance. Joe was not so easily convinced, however. After having mistakenly let Gerry into the family, he was always on his guard whenever a new fella connected to one of the others appeared. He would be judging the English fella on a different criteria entirely, unphased on whether he looked like the best thing in town.

Erin promptly began to panic as the adults in her family sidled on over to her and James, cursing Michelle and Clare in her head for wandering off inside with Napoleon. The first time Orla introduced David to the family, she remembered the awkwardly tense air in the living room, with poor David looking ready to cut and run after an initial bombardment of questions from Joe. Not that it was that sort of introduction though. After all, it wasn't as if she was in a relationship with James. God no! _Not yet anyway…_

The errant thoughts had to be quickly spirited away, along with the pink cheeks, hoping that none of the family had seen any of her turmoil when it came to James.

"Ye didn't mention ye had a fella Erin".

_Feck's sake!_

Her Aunt Sarah started with what she believed to be the worst possible assumption, mainly due to how close to the truth it grazed. The pink cheeks returned with a vengeance, a detail quickly noted by the hawk-eyed Mary, as well as her equally observant husband. James's own cheeks reddened slightly with Sarah's implication, a reaction he didn't expect from himself.

"We're not together Aunt Sarah!" Erin snarled more viciously than intended, receding to a far calmer voice in order to continue. "This is Michelle's cousin we were tellin' ye about".

"Aye right". Mary's eyes narrowed as she inspected James more closely.

"Congratulations, Erin was just telling me the happy news about Orla and David, I imagine you must all be delighted".

Hearing him for the first time confirmed Mary's belief that Kathy had raised him well, despite everything. She always did have a taste for the good life, the unexpected pregnancy and scroll length list of who the father could have been acting as proof, but that lavish mindset had been transferred for good use when it came to bringing up the boy. He wasn't posh like they thought all the English to be, though could definitely be considered to be well-spoken, every word falling from his lips in glorious perfection.

"I'm buzzin' so I am…". Sarah replied to him… "… I'm Orla's mammy, Sarah".

Repeating his manoeuvre from the day before, James took her hand, placing a gentle kiss onto the back of her knuckles. Sarah's own cheeks began to show a significant change in colour; it had been some time since a man had shown open affection towards her, and the memories of Orla's father flooded back as the Englishman's lips touched her skin. To her left, the other three adults were mesmerised by his performance, Joe considering the possibility of launching the fella over the garden fence, but ultimately deciding not to do so.

"You must be Mrs Quinn". He correctly assumed as he moved forward to take Mary's hand too.

"I am, but please, call me Mary…".

Mary didn't mean to sound so breathy, but the English fella was a damn fine charmer in his own right. He was confident and smooth as he took her hand like he had done Sarah's, with all the airs and graces of a nobleman within the body of a teenager.

It did nothing for Erin's internal panic though. It was bad enough the day before when he'd kissed her hand and the hands of Clare and Orla. He was taking it a step further moving onto her mother and aunt. She saw just how flushed the two of them had become at his touch, and whilst it proved to her that she wasn't insane to find him attractive, it worried her deeply that they'd figure out just how much affection she was already holding for the Englishman.

"I'm glad we've be introduced this way…". James smirked ever so slightly as he addressed Mary. "… if we'd met on the street, I wouldn't have put either of you a day older than Erin".

His flattery infuriated Gerry, who was becoming self-conscious as the Englishman harmonised over his wife's beauty. He didn't think himself to be too bad looking, but the smart and confident young James was causing him to re-evaluate those beliefs. The strings to the Englishman's bow were seemingly endless though, as he detected the mild disgust at his actions by the man that he took to be Mary's husband, quickly moving to dispel any potential quarrel.

"Forgive me Mr Quinn, you are a very lucky man to have a charming wife in Mary and a beautiful daughter in Erin".

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHITTTTTTTTTTT!

_James thinks I'm beautiful, James thinks I'm beautiful!_

Erin's knees did their best impression of the Hindenburg, with only the tiniest slither of control stopping her from collapsing forward into the path of her Aunt Sarah. James uttered the statement with such nonchalance and confidence, it was equally taking the rest of her energy not to grab hold of him and kiss the life out of him. It left her cheeks unguarded as they heated beyond boiling point, glowing like the core of the sun in front of her family.

"Gerry…". He held out his hand for James to shake. "… and thank ye son, I thank the Lord every day for them".

James dipped his head at the notion of Gerry's prayers to God and was about to follow up his comment when the final person he'd yet to be introduced to, spoke his mind.

"Are ye finished being conned by the snake oil salesman yet Gerry, ye massive eejit".

The other three might have been easily tricked by James's charm and flattery, but Joe was not going to fall the same way. His emotions were mountains to their molehills.

"Please Sir, I meant no offence".

James held his hand out in an attempt to appease Joe. An attempt which proved to be a total failure.

"Don't ye call me Sir boy, do I look like the Lord of the Manor?"

"I… well…". James' previously unflappable confidence finally broke, but he was quick to recover. "Please accept my apologies then…".

Joe moved to place his hand into James's, a firm handshake being exchanged between the young Englishman and the older Irishman. Their hands stayed in a shaking motion for a few seconds, the two locking eyes, both trying to read the other without the slightest hint of discretion.

"Joe… Joe McCool, Erin and Orla's grandfather".

"It's a pleasure Joe". James confirmed, continuing their handshake.

The others around them were shellshocked. The handshake test was Joe's way to measure any man that came to reside within the sphere of his family, and in all of the years of the test being in use, no man had ever been allowed to call him Joe after the first shake. It had taken David weeks to be allowed to refer to him as Joe, instead referring to him as Mr McCool until he gained access to the higher level of the man's trust. Mouths were agape.

The door to the house opened again, with Napoleon the dog bounding out towards the Englishman. Michelle and Clare were out behind him, along with Orla and a young man that James presumed to be David. Not that he had chance to ask though, as Napoleon the dog was demanding fuss from him. Fuss that the dog would receive.

"Who's a good boy then". James crouched down to pat the dog, before looking up to Erin. "Does he have a name?"

"Erm… y-yes… Napoleon". She stumbled over her own words in reply.

"Napoleon?" James snorted in surprise. "Who would have thought Napoleon would be so keen on an Englishman after Waterloo…".

His attempt at a joke did not go down well, with silence from all of them. Clare offered him a hopeful smile that at least confirmed she understood the joke, perhaps even appreciating it to a degree, but from everyone else… nothing.

"Right… forget that".

They all promptly did.

David used everyone's disapproval at James' rather poor joke to step forward, the Englishman taking note of his movement as Napoleon scampered over to Michelle. Sarah started up a conversation with Erin behind him, and there was soon an adequate amount of background noise that stopped the conversation being awkwardly tense.

"Yer James then?" David asked him. "Orla's been tellin' me all about ye".

"I am…". The Englishman confirmed, holding his hand out for David to shake. "… and I must bring you my congratulations".

"Ach… yer too kind there". David grinned as he complied with the shake.

"Not at all. Although I must say, I've been here for a day and in that time a lot has happened! Is it always like that here?"

Clearly their conversation wasn't as disguised as they first thought, as everyone answered James' question in unison.

"Aye".

"Right…". James laughed softly as they all reconvened their chats.

"That yer's?"

David pointed to the red Morgan sat at the bottom of the Quinn's garden path, which had also drawn the attention of a couple of men in the houses across the road too.

"Yes that's my car".

"Ye own a Morgan Roadster? An incredulous David questioned him.

"Want to have a look?" James jolted his head backward in the direction of the vehicle.

There was no answer needed, the two laughing away as they walked out to the roadside to inspect the Morgan. David's eyes were wide, and his lips curved up so highly the corners felt as if they could tickle the bags under those wide eyes. He saw cars everyday being a mechanic, but a car of the quality that James owned only came along every so often.

"My God… it's a cracker motor ye have here mate".

"Thank you". James replied, inwardly beaming over being referred to as a friend by David. "It's the first car I've owned".

"I've seen a picture of one and I thought it was class like, but in person… Christ what a machine".

"It's served me well, although trying to drive it in London was a challenge at times".

"How come?" An interested David asked.

"Too many people. It isn't quite as fun when you end up arrested for running a lady over".

David sniggered at James's joke as his hands ran along the crisp sides of the Morgan, his eyes drawn to the comfortable interior that Michelle had sank into earlier on.

"I bet she handles well…". He mused.

"Here…". James threw him the keys.

"Now James, I didn't mean…". David didn't want to be seen to force his arm.

"I have a feeling that the girls will be fussing around Orla you know". James chuckled. "I think you could do with the drive for your own sanity".

"Fair point". David snorted humorously.

David got behind the wheel, almost frozen with joy before he could put his hands on it to truly get a feel for the vehicle. He'd only known James for a matter of minutes, but like nearly everyone else, he was taking an immediate liking to the well-mannered young Englishman. He wasn't condescending despite his evident wealth, instead offering a warm and friendly exterior to everyone. Summing it up in his head, he came to a conclusion. James was just a good man.

"MICHELLE!" James shouted out. "WE ARE GOING FOR A DRIVE!"

"GOOD!" She shouted back. "YE CAN BRING DAVID BACK, BUT FEEL FREE TO DRIVE BACK TO ENGLAND AFTERWARDS YE PRICK!"

"I'm gettin' the spoon…". Joe mumbled, turning on his heel to re-enter the house.

Sarah, Mary and Gerry were left staring out onto the road, watching as David revved up the engine once James was in the passenger seat, setting off with the wheels spinning.

"If that James was five years older… and I was five years younger…" Sarah whispered her dreams to the other two.

"Aye me too…". Her sister agreed.

"Mary!"

Gerry became aggrieved that they were having fantasies over the young Englishman, especially his happily married wife. He might have been a handsome lad, but the two women should have known better than to get all dreamy eyed about him.

Still, they at least carried stable heartrates.

Erin's was absolutely all over the place because of the dashing Englishman. David might have been appealing… but James… _wow!_

James was in a different league.

* * *

The drive ran to a full hour for the boys, the two enjoying themselves far too much to make a quick return to the Quinn house. They conversed away merrily, with much of the discussion going on David's impending marriage and his child that Orla was carrying. David had never been happier, though that feeling started earlier that week. Confirming that she was indeed pregnant as she'd suspected, David had gone to Joe on the Monday to ask for permission to marry her. Some people would have bypassed the traditional method of obtaining the father's consent, especially with Orla's father being deceased, but he wanted to do it properly. Knowing of Joe's fondness for him and that Orla would never say no, he didn't need to do it out of a worry of not being accepted either.

Breaking the news to the rest of the family had been a daunting prospect, not that it should have been whatsoever. Sarah was more than approving of him too, Mary being the only one who he truly feared falling foul of. He'd told James of those fears as they drove out into the countryside. He could tell immediately that the Englishman was going to be a good friend in the future, as the two quickly found plenty in common. They were both practical thinking young men, even if James didn't outwardly show it and they were honourable too.

That was why David invited him to the pub that night. He really did like the fella.

"James!" He called out to his fellow young man as he walked into the pub.

There were stares from some of the regulars at The River. Word of a young Englishman related to the Mallon's staying in the city was beginning to get round, the locals on the lookout for a stranger called James. David unwittingly wasn't doing him any favours, albeit the women in the pub weren't staring at him out of suspicion or disgrace. People didn't bite their lips and pour their drinks down their fronts if they were looking at a man in total anger. It was clear that James was a head turner amongst the ladies.

"I appear to be popular".

"Ye best be careful, some of those women…". He gestured towards a particular group in one corner. "… they'll rip ye apart".

The two young men broke out into hearty laughter at David's warning. James insisted upon paying for their drinks, though David had to insist himself that he get them in, as he was well aware of the barman's hatred of the English. One night a few young Englishman had come into the bar and two of them left with black eyes and bloody noses after a disagreement over the price of the beer. He was keen to avoid having to explain to Deirdre Mallon why her nephew came back from a night out in the city looking like he'd lost a boxing match with a lion.

"Seriously though James…". David said to him as they found somewhere to sit in the far corner. "… are ye tryin' to get yerself killed? An Englishman… wanting a water… in a pub… in Derry?"

"One to add to the list of do not do's I suspect?" James jested in return.

"Aye I'd say so. Why don't ye drink?"

"I do!" James clarified. "But I find that my driving is far worse after having a drink, so I only drink when I'm at home".

"Ach that's sensible so it is".

The two of them sipped at their drinks, ceasing any further conversations for a couple of minutes. James used the time to have a quick scan around the pub, where he found a couple of the patrons still unwilling to take their narrowed eyes off of him. Two girls, who James determined to be around their age, began to make their way over to the two lads. David sighed quietly when he realised which two, not having the time to explain his reaction to James before the darker haired girl engaged them in conversation.

"Congratulations David, we heard about the engagement and the wee baby on the way".

"How do ye know about that?" David's brows were furrowed as he challenged the girl.

"Michelle's been tellin' everyone".

It came as no surprise to James that his cousin's mouth was the source of the spread. In the hour that they'd been away from the girls, Michelle could have told half of Ireland all of David's business, without a care for whether it was her right to do so or not. That was Michelle Mallon.

"Well thank ye anyway Jenny". David eventually smiled at her. "Oh and… this is James, Michelle's cousin".

"Good evening ladies".

Jenny and her friend's cheeks rapidly turned to a shade of pink that could have rivalled Erin's. They were shying at his silky words, fidgeting with their hands whilst they were in the path of his glorious stare.

"Jenny". The dark haired one replied. "And this is Aisling".

"It's lovely to meet you".

The two nodded, sharing a look between them as if to try to decide which one would dare to speak to the handsome English newcomer to their shores. Aisling couldn't form the words, so it fell to Jenny once again.

"We… erm… we… we need to be off. See ye around James".

"Goodbye ladies".

They scuttled off together, giggling to James' confusion, a confusion that increased when he glanced across to find David grinning rather smugly at him.

"What?"

"Nothin'… ye seem to have half the girls here wrapped around yer finger, so ye do".

"I doubt that". James scoffed.

"Don't do yerself down there James. But ye'll want to keep ye distance from those two. I went to school with them and they both come from money like… but… ye know, ye wouldn't want to get into anythin' with either".

"Thank you for the advice my friend". James put a hand on David's shoulder.

"No problem. Jenny can be a right head melter…".

"A what?"

James had set out with every intention to learn the local dialect when he arrived. Already he was struggling to understand some of the phrases that they would come out with from time to time, only really getting the comment of cracker being a positive one when David uttered it earlier in the day.

"Ye know, ye should get Erin to write ye a list of all the words we use that yer English lot don't".

"What do you mean?" A curious James asked.

"Erin's love writin' like. Orla's always tellin' me about the poetry and stuff that she finds in Erin's bedroom, borin' stuff to my Orla, but Erin seems to enjoy it".

"I used to love reading poetry back home".

"She'd probably appreciate someone takin' an interest to be honest with ye James. I don't think anyone in the family does".

"I see".

"But erm…". David squeezed out a noise that was a cross between a cough and a chuckle. "… be careful with her. She can get a wee bit too… what's the word… attached at times… if ye know what I mean".

Fully understanding of what David meant, James grinned a response. One of the girls he'd had a relationship with back in London was the same, believing they had something far more serious between them than they did. It took some careful wordsmithery on his part to let her down easily back then, and he was keen to avoid a repeat with Erin if she was cut from the same cloth.

Yet something niggled away at him when it came to her. There really was something different about the Quinn's daughter, a quality that he was yet to put his finger on. She was a mystery to him, a mystery that he was keen to solve.

He would quite like to hear the poetry too.

As they continued to talk and drink into the evening, James couldn't shake the thought at the back of his head that told him that he would be seeing a lot of Erin Quinn in the coming months.


	4. Wrong or Reich

**Chapter 4: Wrong or Reich 25th April 1939**

Smoke break rolled around at half ten that morning. Michelle found herself out with all of the older women in the yard, including Mary and Sarah, whilst Erin, Orla and Clare stayed inside. They all thought smoking to be bad for their bodies, but Michelle was of the opinion it made her a stronger woman in copying what the men would do. It was a chance for a different standard of conversation too, one where she could show off a bit to the women.

"So yer Orla's pregnant then?" Maureen asked Sarah.

"Aye she is Maureen. I can't believe I'm becomin' a Grandma' at my age".

"Too young". Sinead murmured.

"Ach give over Sinead, ye were barely sixteen when ye had yer Paul". Mary replied hastily, in defence of the family's honour.

"Aye I don't see the problem with it, that Donnelly fella is a good lad".

"And how do ye know that Maria?" The embittered old Sinead moaned again.

"I know his Ma, so I do. Good woman". Maria clarified.

Sinead continued to mumble her complaints, to the ignorance of the others. They were used to the old hag whittling on about the world getting worse as people ignored traditions and forged their own paths. She was of the old school when it came to the life of a woman. Everything should be done by the book, right and proper. It was born out of her own mistakes in getting pregnant so young, with her Paul turning out to be no good on top of being a mistake in her eyes, currently serving time behind bars after his latest string of crimes.

"I hear ye have a cousin then 'chelle". Maria addressed the young Mallon.

"Unfortunately…".

"Unfortunate?" Maureen scoffed. "I got a look of him on Sunday… Christ!"

"He's certainly handsome…". Mary's mind wandered as she thought of him stood there in the garden next to her Erin, his well-kept features being a wonder on the landscape.

"Mary!" Michelle complained. "Ye spoke to him, he's a right arsehole don't ye think?"

"He has got a fine arse on him, mind…". Sarah pointed out, earning the full fury of Michelle' stare.

"Christ girls, I need to see him I think!" Maria joked.

They all burst out into giggles except from Michelle and Sinead, with the older woman finishing her cigarette and heading back inside, to their unbridled relief. She could be a real miserable old cow on her worst days, and it appeared to be one of those days.

"He seemed like a nice young fella". Mary started again, this time more sensibly.

"Surprisin' I must say…". Maureen commented. "… Kathy could be a right bitch at times, and I mean no offence there Michelle".

"Doesn't bother me. Me ma rarely talks positively about her".

Kathy was a sore subject at home. Having James in secret, in the way in which she'd done so, didn't appear to have upset Deirdre too much. Her anger with her sister was over Kathy running away and not turning to her family to help in getting through the tough time after she fell pregnant. The level of trust between siblings had been broken at the time, and Deirdre had never truly forgiven her, even if they'd always communicated via letters since. Keeping the truth about him away from everyone other than Martin and Michelle was a challenge, often feeling wrong, but it was ultimately necessary in her eyes.

"What was me Auntie really like… ye know back then?"

Curious, and unable to ask her mother, Michelle decided to ask the question to the other women, as they all spoke of knowing a younger Kathy and appeared more open to discussion about her.

"She was gorgeous ye know love…" Sarah started.

"All the boys wanted her back in the day…". Maria continued. "… that bein' the problem".

"That and Kathy always wanted them". Maureen added, hums of agreement from them all.

"Bit of a goer then?"

"That's… one way of lookin' at it Michelle". Maria's voice trailed as she spoke again.

"But not knowing who the boy's father was. Well… that was shameful in my book". Mary sneered.

The women all agreed, giving Michelle the confirmation of her belief that Kathy was no more than a tart who'd done well for herself. She might have possessed wealth and a plush job that required her to work on the continent, but she was a jumped-up harlot in her niece's eyes. Quite how she'd came across the money was a mystery to her too. She could ask James of course, but that would require having to be around him for more than five seconds, which was a very unpalatable choice for Michelle.

"Ach we haven't mentioned the eyebrows either".

Mary didn't wish to stomach another monologue from her sister about Kathy Maguire's magnificent eyebrows and how James had inherited them, deciding it was time for the smoke break to end. Besides, they had a lot to get out that week; they couldn't afford to be slacking off for too long.

"Back to work then girls, we can talk eyebrows another day".

The group shuffled off inside, Michelle returning to the rest of her group, taking her seat next to them, with the girls having already started working again. Clare was panicking about not getting all of her work done on time after their shift supervisor Mr Meyler relayed the importance of finishing their batch that afternoon. Orla didn't seem too bothered in contrast, though in reality she never did regardless of what Meyler said, and Michelle couldn't really care less if she met her targets or not. Meyler was an old perv, who could be persuaded to let any punishment slide with some crafty clothing choices on her part.

For Erin though, every spare second not working became torturous. She'd not seen James since after church on Sunday morning, a full forty eight hours or so, and her heart already ached over it. Quite how she could fall so helplessly in love with him was insane to her, but she would not seek to deny the feelings that overwhelmed her. It would be incredibly painful getting through the week without him, not expecting to see him until at least Saturday. Apart from in her dreams.

_He was always turning up there with his fancy red car… his hair that stayed slicked and sharp every time… his muscular chest where his shirt usually was…_

* * *

It wasn't taking too long for James to settle into his new job. He'd held a similar one back in London, albeit at a far bigger bank, though with less responsibilities. An interest in banking did not resonate within him, but he was good with numbers and there wasn't much use for his other passions when it came to meaningful work. It was all a breeze to him really, a layer of comfortability that he welcomed in the backdrop of his new surroundings. His colleagues were not so welcoming though. Having a Junior Manager would normally necessitate significant disapproval from the older workers, but to have an English Junior Manager was a completely different story. The McLaughlin's brothers, Tommy and Ian, were particular scathing, consistently commenting on James' country of birth and how shameful it was to be English. He hoped to get a clean break from those types of comments with no Michelle around… but it was not to be.

It was early that afternoon when a familiar face strode in, accompanied by an older man. It took James a moment to remember her name, recognising her face from the night at the pub with David. Her dark hair was tied up in the style of one of the factory girls, though it was clear that she didn't work there. Her exquisite dress told him that extremely conclusively.

Jenny

That was her name.

Being the only available member of staff at the bank, the man, who James assumed to be her father, walked over towards him. He was a tall man with a stout posture drummed into him. Each step sounded firm and commanding, an air of regality hugging to the man as his eyes locked with the Englishman.

"Good Afternoon Sir, how may I help you?" James addressed him.

"Good Afternoon to ye. Is Mr Feeney available?" The man asked.

"I am afraid he is out Sir". James replied about the Bank Manager's whereabouts. "May I help?"

"I don't know you. Are ye new?"

"Yes Sir. James, James Maguire".

He held out his hand, the other man accepting the handshake with a smile on his face, touching his hat in a sign of respect.

"Professor Michael Joyce. And this is my daughter, Jenny".

"It's a pleasure to meet you Professor. Jenny and I are already acquainted".

"You didn't tell me about this Jenny?" Her father turned to her. "Is there something going on here that I need to know about?"

"No! No Daddy!" Jenny spiritedly protested.

"It was a mere passing welcome, Professor Sir, one which I remember with fondness".

It wasn't the first time that James had met a father with the wrong impression, having to frequently negotiate scenarios like that back in London. There was an art to diplomatically dealing with a misunderstanding such as the one he was facing at the bank that afternoon, one which he'd began to master.

"I am glad to hear it. I need to discuss Jenny's finances, do ye know when Mr Feeney will return?"

"He is not going to be back until tomorrow morning Sir".

"Then perhaps you could assist Mr Maguire?"

"Certainly Professor. I'll show you through to my office and if you just give me a moment, I will get all of the relevant files".

"Grand". The professor nodded.

Jenny watched from beneath her lashes as they were ushered into James' office. She'd only seen him for the first time on the Saturday night, yet was already of the opinion that he would be a good match for her. He was clearly of wealth in some form. His clothes were too fashionable, his manners too perfected, for him to be of the same ilk of the rest of the Mallon's or the Quinn family. The meeting with herself, James and her father continued on for over an hour, the men having plenty to discuss about her finances. She was a lucky young woman when it came to money. Unlike most girls in Derry, Jenny would never work a day in her life due to the family's wealth and affluent standing, able to go about her days doing whatever she pleased. It didn't completely please her father, who wished for her to be self-sufficient, but he'd do anything for her. She had him wrapped around her little finger in that regard.

"Thank ye again Mr Maguire". The Professor said to him as the three exited the office.

"Not at all Sir. And please, friends call me James".

"James it is then".

They strode out through the bank, James receiving angered stares from his colleagues, who'd been busy without him to assist them. In reality, they were jealous of him. Not a single one of them had ever been trusted to assist with the finances of a man of standing such as Professor Joyce, even those employed for years. Mr Feeney wasn't particularly happy about having the Englishman working there either, but recognised his ability in spite of his nationality, and was trusting enough to leave the young man in charge whilst he was absent for the day. James hoped he would be pleased upon his return.

"I shall speak to Mr Feeney the next time I see him…". The Professor began, James's breath catching, fearing the worst. "… let him know what a wonderfully capable young man he has working for him".

"You are too kind Professor". The relieved English fella replied.

"Nonsense James. I've never left the bank feeling as confident about Jenny's finances as I have just now".

He might not have held an interest in banking nor particularly cared for it in the long term, but James was satisfied by the praise lavished upon him from the Professor. Knowing from records that the Professor had banked with them all his life, it was pleasant to hear of the man's confidence in the bank's handling of Jenny's finances, as well as the rest of the family finance as a whole.

"Might we ask for your presence at dinner, James?" Jenny finally spoke up.

He looked to the Professor, who awaited an answer, and for the first time he hesitated in his reply. The memory of David's warning from the pub on Saturday night flooded into his mind. Jenny was someone to stay away from in his newly found friend's eyes, a 'head melter'… _whatever that meant_ …

What James was unaware of on Saturday night, however, was her father being one of the banks biggest clients. It would serve him well to maintain a good standing with the man, especially given his prior comments of positivity towards him… but it could mean being drawn into a more serious relationship with Jenny. She appeared to be a smart and friendly young Lady, which counted a lot in his eyes, as well as her wealth giving her an air of grandeur. Romantically though, the Englishman felt nothing for her. She wasn't unattractive by any means at all, she just wasn't the right person for him. He couldn't ruin his progress though, and with the job at the bank being one for the foreseeable future, he would of course have to accept the invite.

"Y-Yes. Of course".

"Excellent. You have the address from the file, shall we say six o'clock?" The Professor enquired.

"I have to visit my Aunt after I finish today, perhaps we could say seven?

"Seven it is". The professor nodded, Jenny beaming at her father's side.

"Wonderful!" She spoke again. "I'll see you then James".

"I look forward to it".

Nervously smiling, he cursed to himself under his breath. Everything about the evening came across to him as wrong for some reason. It was almost as if he felt he was betraying David by ignoring the advice when it came to Jenny. The olive branch of friendship was one he hadn't expected from the soon to be married man; jeopardising it so quickly was not in his best interest in the same manner that declining the invite wouldn't have helped him. Sometimes there wasn't a right answer, and it seemed this occasion would be one of those frustrating times.

When it came to the English fella though, there were plenty of female suitors who were willing to offer friendship, if not more.

In the race for his affections, it was first blood to Jenny Joyce.

* * *

Taking one look into the living room of the Quinn house, Joe huffed, walking straight back out the door and back over to his house next door. The reason for his dismay came in the form of a very mouthy young woman, who's confessions list at Church must have been longer than any politician could muster at the most stirring of rallies.

Michelle Mallon.

She'd arrived with a mouth that required a good clean out with soap at around quarter past nine, angered by this, that and the other. Joe didn't want another evening ruined by her moaning and swearing, instead favouring a quiet night's reading.

"I'm tellin ye girls, I caught 'em".

"Not this about Norah again…". Erin rolled her eyes.

"Ye think I'm lyin'?"

"It wouldn't be the first time…". The young Quinn mumbled to herself.

Michelle glared at her, prompting a change in demeanour as she backed off. No one was in the mood for one of Michelle's verbal assaults that evening. Mary wasn't best pleased, watching on whilst she tidied up in the kitchen. She could at least be contented in the knowledge that the dark-haired girl wouldn't be visiting for too long, needing to get home to get to bed, though it meant everything came out in a startling whirlwind of vulgarity.

"He was really goin' for it with her as well…".

"Michelle!" Erin screeched at her.

"Relax Erin, ye'll be that way with John-Paul before long!"

Receiving a playful slap on the shoulder from her friend, for the first time in a long time, she never felt her cheeks heat up at the mention of any liaison with John-Paul O'Reilly. From the minute she'd set eyes on James, it was as if the strong feelings she had for the other man evaporated and faded into the abyss of her mind. A mind occupied of images of the young Englishman. Many… many images of the young Englishman. _Not many involving him wearing a shirt…_

"Can we talk about somethin' else?". Orla asked.

She was sat with her head on David's chest, his arm around her shoulder, listening in to the conversation between the other two girls. David's attendance at either of the houses was going to be a regular fixture going forward, wanting to be protective over her as the pregnancy progressed.

"Ach here's a good one, fuckin' James!"

Erin nearly fell out of her chair at his name, caught daydreaming about the very same young man that she'd be thinking of the whole time since Michelle's comment about John-Paul.

"Michelle! Yer never too old to get the spoon, ye hear!?" Mary called out from the kitchen.

"Sorry Mary, but… he's English!" She called back.

"I couldn't care if he was English, Italian or Japanese, it doesn't give ye the right to start usin' that language in my house!"

Michelle grumbled on, far too loudly for sensitive ears, attracting the attention of Mary once again. The two briefly locked eyes, the chance of further conflict seeming highly likely until the older woman backed off and went back to tidying the kitchen. Not without getting the wooden spoon out ready on the dining table, should the need arise for it to be wielded against the younger woman.

"What about him?" Orla turned the conversation back to James.

"He's comin' round our house every night after he finishes…".

"And what's yer problem with that Michelle, ye don't see have to see him". Erin instinctively challenged, terrified by the realisation that she was defending him without a good reason.

"That's the only good bit. The creep's already gettin' in with the other rich bas-…". Michelle stopped looking up at Mary, who held the spoon ready from back in the kitchen. "… rich doses around here".

"What do ye mean?"

"What I mean, Erin, is that he's already tryin' to ride Jenny Joyce! Got himself an invite to the mansion, from the Professor himself apparently…".

_He was... WHAT!_

A burning flash of anger sliced through Erin at Michelle's words. Jenny Joyce was not getting her pampered claws on him, not a chance! She would only be using him in order to appease her rich parents, finding another man of wealth to match with… she wouldn't love him! He'd be stuck in a miserable relationship for the rest of his life, with all the money in the world and no happiness. That was not a scenario that could be allowed to occur.

"Jesus, he's ignorin' me then". David said to the girls.

"Ignoring ye?" Orla mumbled from where she rested on his chest.

"Aye, I told him to keep away from Jenny like… ye know, didn't want her bein' how she can be around him".

"Ye knew about this!?" Michelle demanded from him.

"No… Christ no, not at all". He replied. "We just saw Jenny in The River the other night, that's all".

"What was Jenny doin' down The River?" Michelle replied.

"She was there with Aisling, I guess they were just enjoyin' themselves…".

By the sounds of it, they were enjoying themselves far too much, if Jenny was using the visit to lure James in. Erin was not ready to let Jenny's actions stand and needed to make her thoughts clear on the matter… at least the thoughts she deemed appropriate for them to know when it came to the English fella.

"It's not right! She's playin' some… perverted game with him!"

"Yeah…". A rather tepid response fell from Michelle's lips. "… I'm strugglin' to see it that way really…".

"She'll make him unhappy and… and… he's yer cousin Michelle, ye need to help him!"

"Why?" She snorted in return. "I mean… he's a right perv for tryin' it but if he wants to ride Jenny… and Jenny wants to ride him… so what. No one else in their right mind would…".

The urge to shout, 'I WOULD!', bubbled dangerously close to the surface as Erin's vocal cords shivered in an attempt to respond. It was ridiculous how quickly she'd fallen for the English fella… ridiculous…

"Well ye… well all of us… we should be lookin' out for him".

"I tried…". David protested meekly.

"Shut it David, yer not helpin!" Erin snapped, his hands going up in surrender.

"If yer that bothered, why don't you help him?" Michele suggested to her. "Why ye care I don't know…".

"Maybe I will!".

From inside the kitchen, Mary was beginning to have an understanding of why Erin cared, just like David was from his spot sat a few feet away from her. She might have thought she was doing a reasonable job in hiding her feelings for James, but there were certain people who saw through her guard. David would say nothing, at least not yet, and it wasn't Mary's place to get involved in directing her daughter's affections.

But she wouldn't stop her either.

* * *

 _Berlin, the morning of Wednesday 26_ _th_ _April 1939_

There was a general quiet around his office. One which was welcome whilst he prepared for the important event that was taking place within the hour. The most important one of his life. The long days and often longer nights of hard work. Of failures and disasters, successes and triumphs. Finally, he would be able to share the outcomes of his scientific work, all undertaken for the glory of Das Reich. There would be a day in the future when the wider world come to appreciate his work, work often scoffed at by his contemporaries, who criticised his approach.

Illogical.

Mad.

Psychopathic.

All terms that Doctor Kurt Van Der Heijden was used to hearing.

After the initial criticism, he'd assumed the abuse was directed at him for not being German by birth, being born in Emmen, in The Netherlands, to Dutch parents. It was only when he was twelve years old that they moved to Berlin to live, his father working in the city for a couple of years before going off to fight in the Great War. He never came back, dying near Cambrai in 1917. The then seventeen year old Kurt was devasted, but threw himself into his scientific interests to ignore the grief plagued him following his father Koen's death. Years of hard graft and taunting from his peers ensued. Those same men were most likely bursting into cacophonous rage on hearing just how far his research had come, and the audience that he could command to see it.

Yet the pursuit of Science was not his only interest. Carefully hidden from the majority of the small circle of associates that he considered friends, he was a great libertine, with countless lovers over the years. Seducing women for his own appetites would often replace the emptiness of life away from his work, where a normal social life simply did not exist. There were rare gatherings with those he called friends, perhaps every couple of months, his spare time instead being devoted to the search for a companion to spend the night with. Some he went back to on a regular basis, until they found out about his next lover and promptly refused to see him. The thrill of the hunt was electrifying for him though. He had a type too, preferring newly arrived women to the city, preferably ones who spoke little to no German. There was a vulnerability about them that he enjoyed, without ever forcing himself upon them. He would never assault a woman in that way. Never. If they didn't want him, he would take it on the chin and seek comfort elsewhere.

The latest woman to catch the eye of the Doctor was different. There was something about the mysterious woman that he'd set eyes on the night before that screamed class and elegance to him, accompanying her evident beauty. They hadn't spoken, having only seen her from the window of his office as she stopped outside to ask a gentleman a question. He wanted to speak to her though, so desperately in fact, he'd already arranged for her to be investigated.

Lieutenant Hans Hartmann was one of those he called friend. The nineteen year old soldier was assigned to him the moment that the research project received the backing he sought. The young man originally came across as a shy, nervous teenager, very unwise about the ways of the world. Taking him under his wing, Van Der Heijden bought out the confidence in him, quickly recognising Hartmann's ability to acquire information deftly. A vital technique for the Doctor, whose project attracted jealousy from others, the likelihood of sabotage being very high. Having pre-warning of any threats became paramount. That deft ability could be used to aid the Doctor in his carnal desires too, with the young Lieutenant always willing to help the man he looked up, treating him as a superior officer in military rank rather than just a Doctor like most did.

"Komm herein, Hartmann!"  
("Come in Hartmann!")

"Sie wollten mit mir sprechen?"  
("You requested me Sir?")

"Ja wohl! Wer ist die Frau von gestern Abend?"  
("Yes. The woman from last night, who is she?")

"Sie ist neu in Berlin angekommen. Sie spricht Deutsch, Englisch und Französisch."  
("She's a new arrival in Berlin Sir. Speaks German, English and French".)

"Interessant. Wissen Sie was sie für Arbeit macht, wo sie wohnt?"  
("Intriguing. Do you know what she does, where she lives?")

"Nein, aber das kann ich herausfinden."  
("No Sir, but I can find out".)

"Guter Mann! Ist der Führer bereits für unser Gespräch angekommen?"  
("Good man Hartmann. Has the Führer arrived for our meeting?")

"Seine Begleitung nähert, mein Herr."  
("His convoy is approaching Sir".)

"Gut. Das ist alles, Hartmann."  
("Good. That will be all Hartmann".)

"Jawohl!"  
("Yes Sir".)

As soon as Hartmann returned with the information, Doctor Van Der Heijden's destination that evening would be the woman's address. It would be a slow process to begin with, painfully slow, and he sensed that the pretty woman who radiated the night sky of Berlin would be a challenge too.

But she would have to wait.

He had his other passion to attend to.

His duty in serving Das Reich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thanks to a Sitcom_Fan for the German translations! You should check his work out, he's wrote so many fantastic fics!


	5. Confines of Friendship

**Chapter 5: Confines of Friendship 28th April 1939**

Friday morning saw a dramatic decrease of work at the factory. A lot of the main orders for the work had already been shipped, providing most of the girls with an easier workload to end the week. It was so easy in fact, that Erin, Michelle, Orla and Clare were sitting around without anything to do after the mid-morning break. They would most likely have work to do later that afternoon, with the usual mad rush in the last couple of hours before the weekend, but until then they could relax. Their whole section took to relaxing or socialising in some manner, girls from a few desks away choosing to spend their free time in participating in further smoke breaks. All in all, it was quiet.

"Jesus this is borin'". Michelle grumbled.

"Aye…". Erin sighed her reply. "… to think I could be at home writing…".

The others all looked at each other as she trailed off into a world of her own poetic imagination. None of them liked her poetry and ramblings, though not openly telling her as such as to not hurt their friend's feelings. It just wasn't very good.

"I've got to put up with the English bastard tonight". Michelle returned to complaining.

"He's not that bad Michelle!" Clare stepped in to defend Jams. "He was a gentleman when we met him the other day".

"He does sound funny though…". Orla pondered.

"He's English Orla, they all sound like that". Michelle educated her. "Stops him from goin' round Jenny's and ridin' her though I suppose".

Erin could feel the rage rising within at the mention of James's evening a couple of nights before. Since learning of it from Michelle, she couldn't stop thinking about it, feeling betrayed by him for visiting the Joyce mansion and holding feelings for the pampered, snobby girl that they all detested. Stopping him seeing her would be difficult with her standing. The Quinn's were far from the upper echelons of Derry society, instead skirting around the lower rungs without living in true poverty. Jenny, and James, were far detached from that class, so she could only live in the hope that he would not be bothered by it. Then again, it may already be too late. No further news of what occurred at the dinner had been mentioned by Michelle that morning as they worked away. Erin had to find out.

"Are they… ye know?"

"He didn't say much according to me ma, but she doesn't think so".

"What did he say?" She continued to push for answers.

"Am I on trial here or something, Judge Quinn…". Michelle snorted. "… apparently it was a lovely evening, and they were very nice people. Fuckin' prick is always so pleasant!"

"Jenny would probably suit him ye know. She's from the circles he mixes in, has money…".

Feeling the urge to pick up her chair to strike Clare around the head, Erin took a deep breath in order to regain composure. Jenny most certainly _was not_ the right person for James, even if they did come from similar backgrounds and shared similar financial positions.

"I don't think she would".

"No offence Erin, but you think yer in a relationship with John-Paul O'Reilly… what ye think isn't exactly reliable".

"Not this again Michelle…".

As much as it had annoyed her in the past, her annoyance was now a complete exaggeration. She didn't have anything with John-Paul O'Reilly… she never did. Although they didn't need to know that, for the girls had suspicious minds and if she wasn't fawning over him, they may work out just who she had set her mind on. That was dangerous…

"Why do ye care again anyw-".

Michelle was thankfully interrupted as she went to ask about why Erin was so bothered about James, or at least what Erin assumed she was going to ask. The noise that had startled her came from the stairs to the management offices above, the sounds of arguing between two men. An instantly recognisable voice was the shift supervisor Meyler, who was giving a verbal lashing to whoever the other man was. Keeping their eyes trained on the bottom of the stairs, it soon became clear who the second participant was, one of the accounts men, Jim Quinn. Not a relation of Erin's, Quinn was a mid-thirties man who'd once held far loftier ambitions according to Mary, but was never good enough to achieve them. He was disliked by both the men and the women in the factory alike, so seeing him receive Meyler's wrath brought satisfaction to all concerned.

"Meyler's really goin' mental…". Orla commented on the ongoing argument.

"Aye… Jesus, Jim's gettin' battered". Michelle added.

Jim started to argue back, but hearing what was being said, the girls could only see one outcome. An outcome that presented itself a few moments later. He stormed out, shouting that he quit, leaving the already angered Meyler cursing loudly at the man who'd turned his back and walked out. The whole factory had stopped working to witness the culmination of the argument, although a second later Meyler's glare sent them all back to work to avoid his evident anger.

"He's ragin'!" Michelle spoke up again.

"We… we need to find something to do girls… Christ he'll kill us in this mood!" Clare began to cack it, hands shaking as they rested on the table.

"We'll be fine Clare". Erin reassured her.

"Too right…". Michelle voiced her agreement with Erin. "Watch. MR MEYLER!"

Michelle shouted his name, with the older man whipping around to face them. Clare appeared to turn a shade of grey that none of them had ever seen before as he stared at their group, under the strict belief that he was going to be angered by them thanks to Michelle. He made his way over, with the scowl remaining on his face for the whole journey to their section, reserving an especially dour look for the young Mallon girl.

"What is it Michelle?"

"Just… well, just wonderin' what's goin' on with Jim?"

"Jim decided he didn't want to go to the bank today…". Meyler explained. "… and I reminded him that it was his job, and he had no choice, but he started arguing back… and was absolutely ripping. So I gave him the same treatment and he's quit because he couldn't take it".

"What a dick!".

"Hang on, where's Jim?" Orla gasped out a question, the others rolling their eyes at it.

Meyler's expression softened at Orla's ridiculousness, revealing the face of an incredibly stressed man that wasn't having his best day. Being comfortable in the presence of the four young women, he opened up to them about his fears.

"I'm not so bothered about losing him… but I've got no one else to pay the money in for me at the bank. Nobody really wants to do it upstairs and I can't force anyone to".

_Opportunity lurked around every corner…_

"I'll go!" Erin seized her chance, a note or two more vigorously than intended.

"Miss Quinn?"

"I'll go to the bank for ye during me lunch break Mr Meyler".

"Ach right I see". He replied. "Do ye know what to do?"

"Aye I know what I'm doin'".

"That's settled then, thank ye so much Miss Quinn".

Relieved at finding a short-term fix to the problem, Meyler could begin the search for a replacement when it came to Jim. He walked off with a smile on his face, a situation he'd not foreseen with Jim Quinn's sudden insubordination.

"Yer goin to the bank?" Clare was the first to question when he'd left.

"That might mean having to look at James for half an hour…". Michelle slated her absent cousin. "… I can't look at him for more than a couple of seconds without wantin' to boke".

"Gets me some fresh air girls and its work business. If I do well, ye never know, they might promote little ol' me!".

Erin's luck was in, justifying her approach to wanting to go to the bank and receiving little abuse in return for it. Not that any of her friends believed she would get a promotion…

Not that it mattered.

She finally had her excuse.

An excuse to put her into the path of a certain English fella to strike up a conversation with, one she was already delighted for, though unbelievably nervous for too. Meeting him as he worked would be perfect if he could get away from his other responsibilities, even if it were just to talk. Not that Erin wanted to just talk though.

_She wanted him…._

* * *

As his first week at the Ulster Bank drew to a close, James's colleagues were having their ultimate revenge on him. When they'd seen a certain customer down the queue, they'd all managed to creatively excuse their way out of having to deal with him. That meant when he reached the front of the line, there was only the English fella available to assist the man. James, oblivious to the treachery around him from his colleagues, happily spoke to the man to find out what he could help with. That was when it all went a bit wrong. The man came with a reputation… a reputation of being the most boring man in Derry. There were sniggers from some of the other blokes, the manager included, as the poor Englishman was left to handle the man who was drivelling on about utter nonsense.

"So I said to myself, Colm says I, ye should probably get that elbow looked at. But ye don't want to trouble the nurses do ye, ye know they have so much else to do…".

James believed himself to have the patience of a saint, but he was being pushed into unknown territory as Colm continued on about his elbow. It had been ten minutes since he'd finished sorting the money that the man was paying into the bank and James simply could not find it within himself to ask the man to go. The queues weren't overly long all of a sudden, which meant he couldn't even use the excuse of having others waiting in order to move him along. He would have to just grin and bear it instead. A tactic which did not appear suited to dealing with the boring Colm. However, he suddenly appeared to cease in his monologue, James letting out a small sigh of relief.

"Thank you s-".

"Anyway, did ye hear about that Hitler fella…".

Sadly for him, it was just a brief pause whilst the older man took breath. Any lifeline would be brilliant at that moment and the Lord seemed to favour him, as a figure walking into the bank was about to give him one.

Erin.

What she was doing there, he did not know, but she was a knight in shining armour for him as the old fella continued to waffle on. Making a beeline straight for the counter, she didn't stop where the first person in the queue usually would, instead making her way right up to Colm, who James lost somewhere around Nazi plans to eliminate other races.

"Hello Uncle Colm!" She addressed him.

_Uncle. That explained her ignoring the queuing rules…_

"Ach hello Erin love. How's yer ma, I've been me-".

"She's grand Uncle Colm, grand. Hadn't ye best be off?"

"What do ye mean?"

"The service at the church starts in fifteen minutes, ye'll be late".

"Christ aye, thanks Erin…". Colm smiled. "… thank ye there fella".

Finally the man walked off and James allowed himself a proper breath of relief this time, chuckling to himself as he put his head on the desk. His patience had teetered on the edge of destruction, finding a new boundary that it could be pushed to. Not that it needed to be pushed there again in the near future.

"Is he always like that?" James asked her, with a smile on his face.

"I don't know why they don't send him off to fight wars… I love Uncle Colm but Christ he could kill an army with boredom, so he could".

James snorted his amusement at her groaning, with the pair of them soon ensconced in fits of laughter. He could feel the eyes of his colleagues on the two of them, the burning sensation as their disgruntlement rose about him having the audacity to feel at peace around one of their own. Erin didn't seem to notice, though any form of distraction would have been beneficial as her own mind overflowed with his images of him, despite having his actual form before her to inspect with her own eyes.

"What brings you here Erin?"

"Oh… erm… yeah…". She stuttered, chastising herself internally for being left so helpless by his voice. "… the fella who usually brings the money in quit and they didn't have anyone else so…".

"You volunteered. How very noble of you". He grinned merrily at her.

"Y-Yeah… I suppose". She remained nervous in her reply, handing over the money to him.

"Give me a minute and I'll sort this out for you".

James went through processing all of the money that the factory sent her to pay in, as Erin stood slightly idly in front of the counter. She wanted to him ask him questions, so many questions, but the majority were ones that were out of place in the setting of a bank. Trying to think of anything else to say became a challenge, so she opted for a comfortable silence, watching him working away. Even when he was concentrating, he was devilishly beautiful, with every little frown of his coaxing a skip in the beating of her heart.

"There you are…". James replied, handing a slip over to her. "… all done".

"Thank ye. How… how are ye anyway?" Erin finally found something sensible to ask.

"Very well thank you. Enjoying the new job as you can see".

"Apart from my Uncle Colm?"

"What would life be without obstacles to negotiate?" He harmoniously chimed back to her.

They were laughing again, a healthy amusement for Erin, stopping her from crossing any lines whilst there were people around to see them. She could hardly just climb over the counter and kiss him… it would be very un-lady likely behaviour; her reputation would fall because of it.

"J-"

"I've…".

The two spoke over each other, giggling as neither attempted to continue on with their statements, waiting for the other to lead.

"You go… ladies first". He said to her.

"No, no… you go". She replied hesitantly, fumbling with her hands as he dipped his head in acceptance of her request.

"I am glad you are here as I wanted to talk to you about something…". He explained. "… It would have waited until tomorrow, but I am on my lunch break now if you could spare me a few minutes?"

Her heart jumped out of her chest as he spoke. He must have felt the same way about her as she did about him and was going to declare his undying love for her. James must have recognised her beauty, realising within himself that he wanted to be with her forever. Her nerves jumped all over the place from worrying how to react to pondering whether she was truly ready for such a confession.

"I… yes… well I need to get back to work though…".

"I can drive you back if you want?"

"Ach well… that would be grand. I've… I've never been in a car before".

"It will be my honour to provide you with your first drive then. Shall we go?"

She nodded to him, praying to the Lord that he hadn't picked up on her reddening cheeks. The two walked out of the bank side by side, James ignoring a comment from one of his colleagues about him disappearing off with the young Quinn girl. It gave them more ammunition to use against him, but as there was nothing going on between him and Erin, it would be easy to defend himself from their assumptions. Or as easy as it could be for an unwanted Englishman in Ireland.

Walking around to the side of the building, where James' car was parked, the two stopped just in front of it. Erin was still fidgeting away nervously, his stare being upon her at all times, wreaked havoc with her attempts to control her internal desires.

"What did ye want to ask me then?" She asked, a cheerful tone emanating from her.

"I was talking to David at the pub the other night and he told me that you liked writing and poetry…". James began.

"Aye". She confirmed, stopping him briefly as he continued.

"He also suggested that you might be able to help me in learning some of the more… local phrases, so that I know what people are talking about when we converse. I was wondering if you would perhaps write me a list with some definitions?"

_So it wasn't undying love…_

Pausing before answering him, Erin had to wonder whether her friends were really right about her after all. She was perennially jumping to conclusions about how the boys she liked felt about her, every time being dismayed when the reality was far different. James was just the latest lad to disappoint her, without realising he had. Still, there was the possibility of being around him within the confines of friendship, a friendship worth having with such a kind young Gentleman like him.

"I'd love to". She eventually replied. "Perhaps ye could come round to the house tomorrow and we could go through it together?"

"That would be perfect". He smiled his reply, moving his hand to place it over hers. "Thank you Erin".

The confines of friendship were going to have to be rewritten if he was going to continue with acts such as that, Erin knowing that she couldn't hide her blushes this time. His skin grazing hers was enough to send her heartrate through the roof, marvelling at the softness of his touch, his sweet smile invading her eyeline in unfair support.

"What was it that you wanted to ask me?" He enquired with her, removing his hand from where it had rested on hers.

"Oh… I… erm…".

Panicking, she'd forgotten the true reason as to why she was so keen to do the banking for the factory that day, having pushed it out of her mind when the thoughts of him declaring his love for her took over. Never before had she been so flustered by a fella, not even when John-Paul had kissed her on the cheek. James had the ability to make her lose control like no one else, yet it also embarrassed her in front of him, an emotion she did not wish for him to see. It would be mortifying for her; even Jenny Joyce would hold together better!

_Jenny Joyce!_

"Michelle was… she… she was tellin' me that ye had dinner with the Joyce's on Tuesday?"

"Ah".

James' demeanour changed as he replied to her, Erin watching as he instantly appeared to become defensive. _Surely he hadn't…_

"I… I didn't know ye with were Jenny like…".

"Oh no… not at all… no!" He immediately stopped her line of thought, his own cheeks burning red. "It… well it's just her father is one of our main clients at the bank and I thought it was best to stay friendly with him once I had received the invitation".

"So yer not…".

"No. Well…".

In the next few seconds, his large gulp terrified Erin. It would be a complete tragedy if James were to have started a relationship with Jenny, a girl with far more financial pull than her, who could give the Englishman whatever he wanted. _Please Lord… please…_

"She implied… well she tried to suggest to her father that we could be a 'good match'".

"And? What did her da say?" Erin probed for more information.

"He asked for my thoughts but… can you keep this strictly between the two of us?" His eyes betrayed a hint of fear when he spoke, one which she quickly wished to eradicate.

"Aye, of course!"

"I… I don't find Jenny repulsive but… I don't think I'm ready to start a relationship with anyone so soon. I am still finding my feet here and I have hardly made any friendships yet, let alone considered anything more. I let her down lightly and I have to hope her father appreciated that".

"Well ye have a friend in me so ye do".

James looked at her with eyes of wonder and thankfulness. Her heart was back to beating uncontrollably as his stare bore into her, her body seemingly lighting up to his eyes searching her.

"You have been so kind to me since I have arrived. I am indebted to you Erin".

He took a step closer to her, Erin's brain short-circuiting upon registering the movement. Her hopes of love drowned out every other thought, hoping that he was stepping forward to kiss her.

And he was.

Except it was on her hand, like it had been the week before, and not on her lips, where she desperately wanted him to kiss. The sweet, gentlemanly gesture once again coloured her cheeks and retained power over her knees, which threatened to buckle. It was not an overly hot day in Derry, but Erin started to melt, saved only when he pulled away with the adorable lopsided grin on his face, where it had been throughout their conversation.

"I should get you back to work though, else I will increase my debt to your wages!"

He walked around to the passenger door, opening it for her to allow her to get into the car. They shared a grin as she got in, James closing the door behind her before getting into the driver's seat. Unlike Michelle, Erin managed not to scream as the first sensations of vehicular motion set about her body, enjoying the very new experience immediately. It was a shame that the journey only lasted five minutes, as she could have sat there all day with him, chatting away as they drove through towns and villages, city streets and country lanes. Spending time with James was a very appealing prospect.

He might have only been looking for friendship, a friendship she was happy to have with him.

But the moment he did consider anything more, Erin was going to make sure she was at the front of the queue. Jenny Joyce's wealth wasn't going to get in her way.

* * *

_Saturday Morning…_

The weather was favourable that morning, prompting James to leave the Morgan back at the cottage, walking to the Quinn house instead. It was a long walk, but it gave him plenty of time to admire some of the scenery in the country that he would usually drive past, as well as some of the sights of the city once he reached it. The staring from the citizens of Derry appeared to have come to an end, with a couple of ladies even saying hello to him as he walked on by their homes. It appeared to the young Englishman that he'd achieved the privilege of not being too badly treated considering his accent and country of birth. That week had shown him the challenges of being unwelcome in Ireland on the whole, a country tainted by generations of English interference that left lingering resentment that could bubble over at any moment. There would probably be a day when it would, he thought to himself, but hopefully it would be long in the future, when he would either be too old to care or dead.

As the Quinn house homed into view, he could see Erin stood at the door ready to receive him. Their eyes met and he immediately waved to her, watching as she waved back along with someone else who he couldn't see. It was only when he got closer that he saw the figure of a little girl stood by Erin's side, one that he did not recognise.

"Hello!" The little girl shouted to him as he approached.

"Hello". He answered with curiosity, looking up to Erin who was laughing.

"Now Anna, this is James who is was tellin' ye about. James, this is my little sister, Anna".

Crouching down in front of Anna, the Englishman's jolly face made the young girl grin from ear to ear. It appeared that even three year old girls admired James, as before he could speak, little Anna rushed forward to hug him. Stunned, he didn't react at first, but with a look to Erin that acted as a request of permission, he wrapped his arms around the young girl.

"I like you". Anna mumbled into his shoulder.

Having already gained the friendship of her sister, James felt proud of himself that he could also seemingly count Anna as a friend too. He wasn't used to being around young children, apart from his school days back in London, rather surprising him that the young girl would throw herself at him in the way she had, so soon after having met for the first time.

"Will you be my friend?" She cutely asked, moving away to stand back with her sister.

"I would love to be your friend Anna".

Erin's heart was melting for a different reason to usual. She already knew how much of a gentleman he was, but to see him act confidently and kindly around a young child like Anna was incredible. There was a fatherly instinct to him, she realised, rare for a young man without any children of his own.

"Are your parents not here?" He questioned Erin as he stood back up.

"No, just me and Anna. They've gone off into the city with the rest of the family".

"I expected Michelle and Clare to be here too I must admit".

"Ach Michelle was drinking last night, yer Aunt's probably grounded her again!"

"I must say I am relieved that they did not have a spare room. I'm… I'm not sure I could last long living under the same roof as Michelle".

"Ha!" Erin snorted. "I can't say I'd fare any better and I've known her for years".

Laughing away, Erin invited him inside, though it was Anna who took his hand, almost dragging him into the kitchen of their house. Looking around the home, his initial thoughts went to how cramped it was for a family to live in, being less spacious than his cottage where only he lived. Not that it wasn't well looked after though, James not noticing a spot of dust around the whole of the downstairs on his trip through.

"I'll make some tea". Erin said to him as she caught up.

"No. Please, sit down Erin, I'll make the tea".

"Ach I can't, yer a guest!"

"Please Erin, take a seat". He insisted, Erin complying with adorably pink cheeks. "Do you drink tea Anna?"

"Y-".

"She does, but only half a mug".

"ERIN!" Anna shouted at her. "I wanted to answer him!"

James couldn't suppress the chuckles with his back to them, listening to Erin telling her sister off for shouting. Anna didn't seem to be too bothered with Erin trying to be officious with her, with the older sister's annoyance rising throughout as the younger sister refused to listen. He brought the tea over to them once it was ready a couple of minutes later, with both girls thanking him for the making the drinks.

Erin had prepared her list in advance, writing it out the moment she rose that morning, the sound of the birds whistling through the open window waking her. She'd compiled the list with a smile on her face, partly from realising just how ridiculous some of the local phrases were to their English counterparts and partly due to knowing how much James would appreciate the assistance. With some detective work in her own head, she'd come to the realisation that, whilst James was mostly confident, there was a vulnerable side to him when it came to his relationships with other people. To her, it was as if he was never fully relaxed, always attempting to impress someone with her suave sophistication or gentlemanly actions. Being able to fully understand what other people were saying when he engaged them in conversation would be of great help to someone of his disposition.

"This is the best cup of tea I've ever had!" Erin eulogised after taking a few sips.

"You flatter me". James's lips curved up as he spoke, the heat rising slightly in his own cheeks.

"I like it too!" Anna stated clearly. "It's better than Mammy's!"

"Aye it is Anna, but don't ye be goin' sayin' that ye hear? Mammy will be at me with the spoon if ye say that…".

Anna nodded to her sister but shot James a mischievous smile as if to tell him that she'd just lied to her sister and would mostly certainly inform her mother of James's tea making skills. He shot her an equally silly one back, Erin completely missing the looks between the two, taking another sip of the tea.

"I've done ye the list…".

"Before we start…". James, unusually for his gentlemanly approach, cut Erin off as she went to explain. "… I would love to hear some of your poetry. David told me that everyone else is perhaps not so… _appreciative_ … of your work, but I am always appreciative of good poetry. That is if you wish to of course, I do not want you to feel I am imposing upon you".

Unused to anyone caring at all for what she wrote, Erin failed to disguise her lack of confidence in her own work. She would always tell her friends and family that she was the next great novelist, but in front of James, the atmosphere was vastly different. If he appreciated poetry, then he would only appreciate the best. The great poets were who she sought to emulate… it would be an incredible disaster if her work did not live up to the standards of the idols that gave her the inspiration for it.

"I am terribly sorry Erin, I should not have asked…". James, seeing her distress, immediately became apologetic.

"I will!" She almost shouted a reply. "I'm just… like ye said, not used to anyone appreciating my work".

"I like it". Anna offered her sister a little smile.

Emboldened by the support of both her sister and James, Erin chose what she believed to be some of her best work. It was short but profound in her opinion, praying to the Lord that the Englishman would see it the same way.

_Be careful, child,_

_Of the doll made of glass,_

_For if you hold her too tightly_

_She will break_

_And you will bleed_

"I… I call it The Glass Doll". She informed her audience as she finished her delivery of the short poem.

Anna immediately leant over to hug her sister, to show her own appreciation, a little tear forming in Erin's eye, holding onto Anna tightly. She was very close with her sister, understandably protective of her. Having Anna enjoy her work gave her satisfaction for her own protective nature over the little girl, knowing that their sisterly connection existed with love from them both, rather than being driven by the older girl.

"Like the poet, the poem is beautiful".

The irrepressibly charming James failed to understand what those words did to her. Heat rose all around her body at them, feeling it from beneath her dress as well as the usual heat from her cheeks. Flustered would have been an understatement to describe Erin's state. She was emotionally eviscerated by his passionate words, holding herself together on the smallest of tightropes, desperately avoiding falling off and throwing her body at him to do as he pleased. It was her little sister she would have to thank. Only Anna being present preventing her from completely breaking apart. If they would have been alone in the house, she knew she wouldn't have held together. Not at all.

"James… yer making me blush…". Her voice barely above a murmur, she turned away as to not look him directly in the eye.

"I mean it. I fail to understand why your family do not appreciate it… it was… outstanding".

Control slipped ever further away, Erin coughing awkwardly in order to do anything to break the tense bubble she'd created around herself. James frowned at the cough, but before he could ask further and, with a high degree of probability, discover why she'd coughed so suddenly, the front door shot open. To Erin, it could only mean one person. That meant covering Anna's ears.

"GUESS WHO'S HERE FUCKERS!"

James recognised the vulgar mouth of his cousin, sighing in unison with Erin in their shared disapproval of Michelle's language. He was going to give her a gentlemanly word about the use of such coarse language whilst a child was present, should the opportunity present itself. However, when his cousin spotted him sat at the dining table, that window soon found itself smashed.

"What are ye doin' here!?" She furiously demanded an answer from him.

"It is lovely to see you too Michelle…". He gave her an answer befitting of his character. "… what brings you here on such a fine morning?"

"Don't avoid the question ye snaky English f-...". Michelle stopped any further swearing on seeing Anna sat at the table too.

"Michelle!" Erin scowled at her. "Can ye calm down, please!?"

"Not until Mister Darcy over here explains himself!"

"Come on Michelle, Erin's right…". Clare, who'd filed in almost unnoticed, spoke up calmly from beside her. "… just calm yerself".

Clare was in need of that very calm a second later, when Michelle turned her rage-consuming scowl upon the diminutive blonde.

"I see what's goin on here!" The dark-haired girl roared into the kitchen. "First Jenny, now Erin… yer just tryin' to ride anyone who says anythin' nice to ye!"

"Michelle! He is not tryin' to ride me!"

Mortifyingly red cheeks swelled up as Erin thundered her reply at Michelle. The reaction was far too strong for a normal denial, Erin realising it immediately, with fear creeping under the hardened exterior that she put up to face her friend. Michelle was encroaching upon dangerous ground for her when it came to the English fella. Everything could be revealed if Miss Mallon could get her own way. And she often did. Yet James turned out to be the hero, as his cousin's attention was drawn to him out of curiosity, finding the Englishman looking at a piece of paper. Only Erin knew what was going on.

He was trying to find out what 'tryin' to ride' someone meant.

When he found the definition on her list, Erin didn't miss the brief storm of anger that passed across his face. But James had the measure of his cousin. Smart enough to realise that exploding at her would only act in her favour, he opted for his own approach.

"Dearest cousin, the reasons for my visit were not lewd, like you believe them to be. I asked for Erin's help with learning some of the wonderful words and phrases that Derry has to offer, and I merely visited to go through the list with her".

"That true?" She snarled at Erin.

"Aye! What do ye think James was just doin' then? Do ye not think he might not know what ridin' someone means?"

"I suppose he wouldn't…" Michelle conceded. "… but I still don't like ye creepin' around, ye rich English perv. I'll be outside!"

Storming out upon being defeated, Michelle left the other three and little Anna in the kitchen. To her credit, Anna stayed silent throughout, not crying or asking why Michelle was so angry. James deduced very quickly that she was a smart little girl for doing so; annoying Michelle even further would be unwise for them all. A three year old could see that.

"How are you Clare?" James asked once the dust of his cousin's exit settled.

"I'm… cracker!" She grinned in an attempt to test him.

"Ah I don't need the list for that one!" He quickly responded. "That means you are doing very well".

"I might not be in a minute though". She replied, tilting her head in the direction that her friend had exited.

Understanding what was being suggested, he nodded his head, Clare turning on her heel to go out to talk to Michelle about what had just happened. It left James alone with Erin and Anna again, quickly noticing the water forming around the former's eyes.

"I am sorry for her behaviour. It was unwarranted". He tried to comfort her, handing her a handkerchief.

"It should be me apologising to you…". She sniffled into it. "…I've known her longer. I know how her mind always assumes situations to be… dirty".

"Do not feel that you must. And for the record, I would like to think that I would not be so forward in my advances with anyone who I may hold in a higher regard. I would prefer to get to know them as a person and a friend before anything else".

"I know ye would. Yer a real gentleman James. We…". She pointed to herself and her sister. "… are lucky to have ye as a friend".

"I like you James!" Anna called out to him.

Their joint giggles filled the air of the Quinn kitchen, returning it to the peaceful setting it had been before Michelle's vociferous arrival caused a change in the atmosphere, along with her vicious tongue. His words spoke of hope to Erin. He could only see himself being with someone who he'd formed a friendship with ahead of any romantic relations. _And he was forming a friendship with her…_

She could only hope that she would be the lucky girl he held in a higher regard.

For the Englishman, the morning once again proved something about the poetic blonde that he was honoured to call friend. In the confines of their friendship, he adored her nervousness around him, how she would blush at even the slightest of compliments.

He still couldn't figure out what, but there truly was something special about Erin Quinn.


	6. Home Fires

**Chapter 6: Home Fires 20th May 1939.**

Four weeks into his time in Ireland, James could finally say he was fully adjusted to the Derry way of life. London already began to feel like a lifetime away as the days passed, a gradual stability establishing in the Englishman's day to day existence. Days at the bank were long and at times a challenge, hindered by his colleague's lack of assistance when it came to anything he was involved in, but he threw himself into it. Mr Feeney seemed pleased with him though and he was the boss, so that was all that mattered. He would always have a treat on Friday's too, due to Erin continuing to volunteer to pay in the factory's money. The two would take their lunch breaks together, often sitting and eating in one of the park's or in his office if the weather would not allow for an outdoor break. His colleagues were disapproving of it, but Mr Feeney did not mind at all, the disgruntled workers unable to raise a challenge once the boss had his word.

As his friendship with Erin blossomed, his friendship with David did likewise. The two went to the pub every Friday night without failure, for a night of talking and drinking, relaxing their way into the weekend. David's older brothers Peter and Lorcan joined them too on a Friday, the four occupying a spot in the corner of The River. James found that he was accepted there, with the previously anti-English barman softening towards him, happily serving him whenever he went up to the bar. Relying on David for advice at times, James offered the same service in return, with his friend confiding in him over his fears for the future. David was worried that he would make a poor father, admitting to the Englishman that he did not feel ready to take on such a responsibility. James believed differently though and reassured him that he would be become a brilliant father in time, growing into the role as the challenges of fatherhood presented themselves to him.

He found himself with David on that Saturday morning too, the pair in the centre of the city on an important mission. Securing David's suit for the wedding. Offering to pay for it, despite his friend's protests that he did not need to, James was on hand to ensure that they would get him the best suit possible for marrying Orla.

"How is that fitting?" The tailor asked David as he stood in front of the mirror.

"Ach it's not bad like… not bad".

"It looks tight around the shoulders". The tailor put a hand around his right shoulder, confirming his theory. "Of course, that is easily fixed".

"What do ye think James?"

The Englishman took a look over his friend in the suit, analysing it as if he knew exactly what he was doing… which he did not. However, it didn't take a genius to realise that David looked the part in the suit, the perfect attire for him to be married in.

"With those shoulder adjustments, I think you will look like the man that Orla wants to marry".

"That settles that then". David chuckled back.

James waited by the counter whilst David took the suit back off in the changing room, returning to his own clothes. He would be needing the tailors shop no doubt in the future, finding it useful to note the friendly, helpful service that they'd received. He already had his own suit ready for the wedding that was only few weeks away, a quick turnaround from the announcement only a month before. Having brought all the suits he could fit into his luggage, the one that he'd arrived in when he reached Derry was the smartest of them all. He'd worn it that day for that very reason and would wear it for the church service in the future too.

"You sure about this aren't ye James?" David asked once he'd returned from the changing room. "It is a lot of money".

"Orla will want you at your best David. You dare not disappoint or you'll have to face Joe". James chuckled.

"Ach right ye… good point. But seriously, thank ye".

The two shared a friendly nod before approaching the counter to confirm the details of the adjustments and for James to pay the tailor a deposit. The tailor confirmed that the suit would be ready for final fitting a week before the wedding, the last time for any minor alterations. The deposit amount was beyond David's financial reach too when he realised just how much, but James remained adamant that he would pay no matter what the cost. He wasn't exactly short of money from what he'd already got in his account along with his wages from the bank. David could only dream of ever having a balance such as his.

The two of them left the shop in the direction of the Morgan, which was parked a couple of streets away. There were a fair few people out that Saturday morning, but the town wasn't as overly busy as it normally would be, an odd hush around the place.

"How was dinner at the Joyce's again the other night then?" David started up the conversation.

"It was… an experience". James huffed out.

Having regular dinners at the mansion each week, under the guise of keeping his client happy, James consistently had to fend off Jenny's advances. Considering the girls had painted her up as a do-gooder and staunch child of religion, her insinuations towards him were anything but. Arriving earlier that Tuesday, after finishing early due to having worked late the night before, he found only Jenny and her mother to be at home. With Mrs Joyce busy preparing the dinner, James went on a tour of the rest of the mansion that he hadn't previously seen, a trip that conveniently ended at Jenny's bedroom. Anticipating that it would be the case after a few weeks of comments and gestures that implied Jenny's certainty in her belief that they were the perfect match, he managed to excuse himself in order to escape her clutches. As he'd told Erin, he wasn't ready for that level of depth in a relationship just yet, an opinion he'd attempted to convey to Jenny during the prior week's dinner. One that was proving not to have worked.

"I did tell ye about her…".

"I know you did David. It's just… hard… you know. With the Professor being such a respected man and vital client for the bank, I feel that I have to keep up a good working rapport with him, but I just don't want anything to do with Jenny in a romantic regard".

"The Professor knows that though, aye?"

"He does but…". James stopped walking for a second, running a hand through his hair. "… it won't stop her from covertly trying".

"Covertly? Ach come on now mate, she's hardly some spy is she?"

James sniggered at David's comment. Jenny, even with her sneakily placed seductions, was still the furthest person away from espionage that the world could have possibly produced. Except from Michelle perhaps.

"Besides, I think she has some competition for ye anyway". David continued.

"Competition?" James replied quickly, frowning.

"I'm not tellin ye. Ye'll have to figure that one out yerself".

"Come on David, you cannot just say that to me and not tell me who it is!" The Englishman protested.

"Where's the fun in that if I do?"

David laughed at James's protestations, both climbing into the Morgan. James was left shaking his head at his friend. He couldn't think of anyone else that it could have been. He only spoke to a few girls his age, and nobody other than Jenny outside of Michelle's group of friends. David didn't really have much to do with many more either. It couldn't be his cousin or Orla, for obvious reasons, so that only left two other possibilities. He'd not spent too much time with Clare during his weeks in the city and although he did recognise her to be a good friend, he was yet to come across any hint of her liking him in any other way than friendship. And whilst Erin might have been the kindest to him so far out of them all, they were merely just very good friends. Very good friends who liked to spend their Friday lunchtimes talking and laughing… like proper friends would do. _Just friends…_

"I'll get it out of you…". James told him adamantly.

"No chance!" David snorted back.

"After an afternoon watching football and drinking, I would say my chances will have increased".

The two set off to David's house, where they would be joining Peter and Lorcan for the trip to the football that Saturday afternoon. A Saturday afternoon's football was a treat James believed he'd lost on moving from London.

To his delight, he was wrong.

* * *

Whilst the boys were off in the town, the girls were descending on the Mallon house. Often spending their Saturday's round at the Quinn's, they decided upon a change of scenery for that day. Clare led the way to the house, having gone to the Quinn's first to meet Erin and Orla, who were walking together behind her, Napoleon the dog in tow. Orla's bump was beginning to show, a sight which her mother greeted with wonders when it became truly noticeable. Sarah, who doted on her daughter in normal circumstances, would do anything for her at home now, despite Orla's insistence that she need not bother. The young McCool enjoyed the limits of her independence and having her mother fuss around her at all hours of the day could become quite grinding at times. Especially at work as she tried to finish their orders for the day.

"What do ye think to that new fella who's took over from Jim?" Clare, who'd slowed to draw level with them, asked.

"He has a got a very pointy nose". Orla gave her in the clouds remark immediately.

"What was his name again?" Erin enquired with Clare.

"Clearly ye don't think much of him…" Clare rather snarkily replied. "… forgettin' his name, honestly! I didn't even speak to him and I know his name is Daniel".

"It's hardly a problem Clare". Erin grumbled a response to her friend's grumpy comment.

"Hardly a problem!?" Clare reared up. "It's not like you to forget a name Erin".

"I'm always forgettin' names! I called James, John, the second time we met".

"Aye I know ye did…". Orla chimed back in. "… I remember reading yer stuff in yer room about how ye f-".

"Enough Orla! Yer too old to be sneakin' into my room and reading my work!"

Erin used the pretence of anger at Orla's craftiness to disguise her heart nearly falling from her chest when her cousin went to recite what she'd wrote out about her second meeting with James in their front garden. Orla knew now. Knew how Erin's knees were ready to scream a bloody surrender, how his eyes sent shivers of pleasure throughout her body when they gazed upon her… _about how she wanted to take his shirt off right there and then, and…_

"Calm down Erin, Christ!"

Clare's moaning continued all the way up the road, mostly focusing on Erin's inattentiveness about the new fella at the factory. He'd fully taken over the role that Jim Quinn hastily left after the argument with Mr Meyler, barring one role. Going to the bank on a Friday. Successfully lobbying to the supervisor that she should be the one to go to the bank each week instead, using the excuse that the new fella would be better off not having to be interrupted each Friday to do the paying in, Erin managed to avoid telling the truth. She would have been devastated if her Friday lunchtimes spent with James would have been taken away. It was a void she was unwilling to fulfil and one which required all of her charm in order to avoid it becoming one.

Reaching the Mallon house, Erin knocked on the door for the group. The Quinn house might have been one where visitors were welcome to come and go as they pleased, but at the Mallon's, you weren't allowed in unless Deirdre or Martin said so. When the door opened to them that morning, it was the latter who greeted them.

"Ach, good morning girls". He addressed the three.

"Mornin' Martin". Orla nodded to him. "How are ye?"

"I'm grand Orla. How's… erm… well ye know, how's everythin' going?" He awkwardly blurted out his question, pointing towards her stomach.

"Everything is fine so far". She confirmed with a smile.

"That's good…. She's not up yet".

He tilted his head upward in the direction of Michelle's bedroom, with the girls all sighing at their friend's inability to be ready on time. She was well aware that they would be visiting, having discussed the plans at length during break time at work the day before. Evidently it still wasn't enough time for Michelle…

"Morning girls!" Deirdre called out to them as she walked behind Martin, in order to head up the stairs.

They made small talk with him at the door whilst they waited for Michelle, none of them asking for him to allow them in, instead waiting for his signal. He leant down to pat Napoleon, who'd loyally sat down at Orla's feet. She adored the Labrador, who was the polar opposite to the girl that they were waiting for, obedient and well behaved at all times.

"WHAT THE… MARTIN!"

Michelle's father moved this time, which did allow the girls to step inside, mainly in order to strain their necks to be able to understand the commotion. Deirdre appeared at the top of the stairs, fists clenched and a dark red rage bursting out across her face.

"SHE'S GOT A BOY IN THERE! THEY HAVE BEEN HAVING SEX!"

"WHAT!" Martin roared back.

Erin and Clare put their heads in their hands, whilst Orla, uninterested by the chaos unfolding around them, went back to stroking Napoleon.

"WHERE DO YE THINK YER GOIN… MARTIN, HE'S TRYIN' TO GET OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW!"

"DON'T WORRY LOVE! I'LL GET THE BASTARD!"

They could hear Michelle shouting back at her mother, the two bickering about what Deirdre had walked in on. Erin and Clare were chastising themselves for not accompanying Michelle when she'd said she was going out drinking that night. Too tired from a hard week, they'd declined, but the full of energy Michelle had clearly enjoyed herself. So much so, she'd brought a lad home with her. An incomprehensibly stupid error.

"Excuse me girls". Martin said as he stormed out past them. "Can I borrow the dog?"

"Aye he's all yer's". Orla, who wasn't exactly certain of what was going on, gave him the dog's lead.

"Thank ye love".

Intrigued to see who it might be, but also concerned that Martin might be about to kill the unlucky lad, the girls followed him outside. They could hear Deirdre tearing strips off of Michelle from within, the familiar sound of a wooden spoon pummelling soft skin flooding into the tense air of the Mallon household.

The roof was where Martin and the girls' attentions were drawn to. Erin quickly identified the previously fortunate, about to be very unfortunate, lad, as Johnny Kells. It wasn't the first time that Michelle had been up to something with him, according to her anyway, coming as little surprise to Clare too. Johnny proved during their schooldays that he was not the sharpest tool in the shed by constantly getting questions wrong and coming up with stupid answers. Michelle considered him to be a massive ride though, a physical attraction that appeared to have been acted upon the night before.

"OI! YOU BOY! GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

"Aye… erm… well I'm grand up here for now Mister Mallon".

Johnny, only managing to get his shoes and trousers on before being barged in on by Deirdre, stood bare chested at the edge of the small roof beneath Michelle's bedroom. Shirt and jumper in hand, he was absolutely terrified. The commotion had drawn quite the crowd too, with neighbours from across the street staring from behind their curtains. It would give the city gossip for weeks to come, that was certain.

"How dare you deflower my daughter!" Martin continued to shout at him. "You dirty fecker!"

"Deflower?" A bemused Johnny called back. "I'm not the first bee that's been at that bush Sir".

Four sets of wide eyes stared up at him from below. Even Orla understood the heights of his stupidity, the unintelligent young man uttering his own death sentence from the small roof. He appeared to realise this a second later with a cack attack that even Clare would have struggled to top.

"RIGHT YOU…".

Out of options, Johnny leapt off the roof into the neighbours garden, rolling on the other side as he landed in order to break the fall. They were all in awe for a second as he threw himself to safety, but it would be a joy short lived for the young Kells man.

"Right, Napoleon… after him!"

Releasing the dog from his leash, the Labrador tore out down to the path and onto the road, with Martin running off in pursuit too. The dog didn't need telling what duty he was to perform, sprinting after Johnny, who'd made his way out of the neighbour's garden. He had a head start on his four-legged pursuer, which sent the two charging off into the distance as Martin struggled to keep up. They could still hear the shouting from the front garden of the Mallon house, the rest of the street following the chase up the road from their windows.

"Oh my god!" Clare declared with a voice that betrayed some fear. "What has Michelle done!?"

"Jesus Clare, I'm not goin' to run through it for ye". Erin huffed back at her.

"I know she's done… _that!_ I meant to the poor fella. Martin… he-he's goin' to kill him!"

"Not if Napoleon gets there first". Orla wagged her finger in her friend's direction.

They remained outside the Mallon house for another thirty minutes, unwilling to go inside to further disrupt the volcanic eruption that was no doubt coming from Deirdre. During their time out on the lawn, Martin returned with Napoleon, handing the Labrador back over to Orla. They didn't ask him what had happened with Johnny. His bloody knuckles suggested that the young man took the beating of his life the moment that Martin caught up with him. A poor, but stupid young man. When Michelle did eventually make it to them, she was still arguing with her mother.

"YER A DISGRACE!" Deirdre shouted at her from the door.

"CATCH YOURSELF ON MAMMY! Ye tellin' me ye weren't screwin' around at this age!"

"HOW DARE YE!"

Erin couldn't believe Michelle's audacity with her mother. Secretly, she wished she was far away from the Mallon house that morning, despite how amusing seeing Michelle caught out was at first. The humour had long since dissipated.

"That is the last night out ye are havin, ye hear me!" Deirdre laid down the law to her daughter.

"I can do what I want ma! I'm Eighteen not eight!" Michelle shouted in return.

"As long as you live at my house, ye live be my rules! But don't ye dare show ye face again here until after Church tomorrow".

"Fine! But ye won't see me there!"

"Oh I will! Yer stayin' the night at yer cousin's cottage and he will make sure ye get there!"

"What!"

Deirdre slammed the door to end their argument, leaving Michelle in the front garden with the girls and Napoleon, who was recovering from his efforts in chasing Johnny. They were all staring at her as if she were a stranger, which in many ways the version of Michelle that stood before them was, instantly displeasing her.

"What!?"

There was a short pause as they all looked at each other, with no initial urgency to engage the dark-haired girl in her current state. They could all see the bruises on the backs of her hands, where Deirdre's wooden spoon had left its mark.

"Ye… ye took Johnny Kells home with ye… to have sex… what were ye thinkin' Michelle!" Erin was the first to speak up.

"He's a massive ride, I couldn't resist!"

"It's wrong!" Clare chided her.

"No, it's not, he used a… ye know!" She tried to justify her decision, her voice sounding shakier than intended.

"That's worse!" The fretting Clare almost screamed this time.

"Look, just calm down the lot of ye's! I've got a bigger problem now… spending the night at the English fucker's cottage… feck's sake ma!"

Taking command of the situation, Michelle finally began to calm down after her arguments with her mother. They'd sparred viciously in the house, to the point where she'd nearly turned over to tears at some of her mother's broadsides. She didn't need to be reminded of how much of a fool she'd been in having sex with Johnny under the roof of her own house. To then be reminded by her friends didn't help too much either. At least they were not too cruel with her though. Deirdre hadn't spared her a millimetre, let alone an inch. Erin, though angered by her friend's poor choices, held more of an issue with Michelle criticising James. She'd give the world to be able to spend a night at James' cottage, albeit carrying a vastly different intention for that night. _Vastly different…_

"For the last time Michelle, James is nice, ye need to start respectin' him more". She complained.

"Aye I think he's cracker!" Orla spoke up in agreement.

"Me too". Clare spoke, outvoting Michelle.

"Alright then… but if I have to stay the night, then you's can all stay too. Then ye'll see what a moronic British prick he really is!"

_She didn't need to give the world after all…_

An idea that sounded very plausible under any other circumstance, Erin entered a minor crisis upon Michelle's suggestion. Going to sleep knowing he was only a few miles away was bad enough, often fighting the wishes of her body to sneak out to the cottage at night.

Having to sleep with him only a few metres away was a tantalisingly fearful thought.

* * *

An entertaining football match that afternoon saw Derry City come out on top, with the boys celebrating wildly as the winner came in the last minute of the game. Despite the intake of alcohol, David was still unwilling to reveal the identity of who Jenny's rival for James was, though not through a lack of trying on the Englishman's part. Intrigued by whoever the mysterious girl was, he was straight onto David the moment they left the Donnelly house after the game. The offers of an evening meal and more drink, accepted by his friend, still couldn't prize the details from him. Pulling up towards the drive that led to the house, James decided to give it up for the day. He would find out though. One way or another.

As the tires crunched across the gravel, David's eyes were drawn to four figures coming out from the fields to the side of the house. Four very familiar figures.

"This can't be good…". He surmised, flicking his head in the direction of the fields for James to follow.

Those were James' thoughts too, especially at that time of the day. The girls arriving at the cottage spelt trouble. Trouble which was confirmed when the car stopped, allowing him a glance at the demeanour of some of them. Erin spotted him first, rolling her eyes and flickering them slightly to the left, towards the direction of Michelle.

David exited the vehicle and headed straight to his wife-to-be, hugging and kissing her as his hand came to lay on her ever-expanding stomach. The others waited for James to arrive, watching as his frown remained fixed in place until one of them explained what they were doing walking to his cottage at night.

"There erm…". Erin started to explain.

"Michelle was caught with a boy in her room!" Clare rather abruptly shouted out.

Michelle shot her a deathly look as the little blonde cowered away in fear, realising the error of her fretted cries. Erin shook her head in the former's direction, in an attempt to stop the latter completely breaking down on the gravel outside the cottage.

"I see. I assume that you have been asked to spend the night here".

"How did ye k-".

"Intuition my dear cousin…". James interrupted her, in a mocking tone that amused Erin. "… a punishment suitable for the crime".

"Crime!? There'll be a crime in a minute when I…".

"That's enough Michelle!" It was Erin's turn to cut her ranting off. "We… we thought that… we might all stay… if ye can fit us all in?"

The question was put to James, who's eyebrows shot up at it. Slightly blindsided by the request, he quickly recovered, the calm young gentleman returning in place of the shocked boy. The cottage only had two bedrooms, which didn't leave much room for them all to sleep in, the spare bedroom particularly small. There was no doubt that David would stay either, which would make it the six of them to two bedrooms. _Not the best…_

"Of course you can".

He hummed his reply, watching as Erin's cheeks turned a bright shade of pink and Michelle growled under her breath. She'd wanted him to say no, to her too, enabling her to go out into the city to the pub to get as drunk as she possibly could. Even a night in the gutter appealed more than a night at the cottage.

Assigning his thoughts to exactly how he was going to feed them all became his next task, leading them into the living room whilst he contemplated it. He had enough food but had never cooked on that scale before. Back home in London, James would often cook for himself and Kathy when she was home, a passion which she allowed him to indulge. Whether his cooking met the Derry standard remained to be seen.

Hours later, as the night set in and the six of them were sat around the fireplace in the living room, James had the answer. His cooking was more than up to scratch according to David and the girls. Apart from Michelle. A lying Michelle. She'd complained about the stew from the moment it was placed in front of her; it took an incredible few minutes of acting to hide the fact that it was the best meal she'd ever had. James' apparent domestication was becoming very clear to Erin too, who'd already seen his tea making skills in actions weeks earlier, with cooking clearly part of his repertoire too. Men like that were hard to come across according to her mother, who would spend hours in a week moaning about Gerry's attempts at making the tea.

"What are we doin' about sleepin'?" Orla addressed them all.

"James can sleep outside". Michelle snorted in reply.

That was a comment they were all expecting, with more than one of the others rolling their eyes at its predictability. James remained as calm as ever though, brushing off his cousin's viperous tongue.

"It may be a lovely evening Michelle, but I would rather not ruin my clothes sleeping out on the grass".

"Grass… _grass!"_ Michelle tried to mimic his accent, doing a poor job of it. "Prick!"

"Endearment from you again, I am honoured Michelle. As regards to sleeping, I would think it pertinent to allow Orla and David to have my room".

"Are ye sure James, we wouldn't to turf ye out of yers…". David replied honestly.

"Absolutely, I wouldn't feel comfortable if you did not do so. The rest of you will have to share the spare room and I'll sleep here in front of the fire tonight".

The friends exchanged nods, David thankful of James' honourable offer. It came as no surprise to any of them that Michelle was not so thankful.

"For a bank man, yer pretty shite with numbers, aren't ya?" She sneered at him. "There's three of us and one double bed… those numbers don't work ye eejit".

"One of you's will have to sleep in front of the fire…". Orla suggested.

"Not me, no chance!" Michelle quickly set out her stall. "And Clare will shite the tights out there with you… ye English bastard".

"Ever full of compliments aren't you Michelle?" He rather dryly snapped back.

"Well then I'll sleep out here!"

A general ability to keep herself under control lost, Erin ended up shouting instead of calmly stating her intention to give up the spot in the room. Clare looked at her slightly confused, Michelle thoroughly, whilst Orla didn't appear to be too bothered regardless. David's wry smile was a concern for her though. He might have caught the scent for the reason she was so loud in her statement. First Orla reading what she'd wrote about James, now David giving her looks that indicated he could read her thoughts. _Christ No!_

"I mean… if everyone else has a problem with it of course". Erin tried to quickly rectify her loss of control.

"Yer making the ultimate sacrifice there Erin".

"Catch yourself on Michelle! James is hardly Oliver Cromwell".

"Ach I like him!" Orla jumped in.

The infamous English statesman had fascinated Orla at school, to the point where the teachers modified the curriculum to avoid the subject altogether, due to her being too enthusiastic. The girls were just as horrified as they were and Erin made a mental note to slap herself on the wrist at a quieter time, punishment for bringing his name up. Reading the situation, James could tell that Cromwell was a sour point, rapidly changing the topic back to sleeping.

"I cannot offer a mattress I'm afraid Erin. But I have plenty of blankets".

"That will be cracker James. Thanks". She smiled back at him.

Except it wasn't totally cracker. Through her own foolishness, she was now not only spending the night in the same house as James, but the same room… where she could literally reach out and touch him if she wanted to.

Which of course… she did.

_SHITE!_

* * *

It didn't take too long for the cottage to fall fairly silent. Orla and David were the first to settle, cuddled up together on James's spacious bed in perfect harmony. When they'd shut the door to the bedroom, it spurred Clare into action, forcing Michelle into an early night. An early night that she needed, and they all did, having spent most of the evening listening to her moaning about Deirdre's reaction to finding her in bed with Johnny Kells. For once she wasn't drunk at least, James having tightly regulated how much alcohol she was allowed from his small collection. Unbeknownst to her, he'd even kept his best whisky hidden all evening. That wasn't for her consumption. Not at all.

There were few moans from the dark-haired girl once she'd started to settle down in the room, though it did suddenly appear to bother Clare. The moment they retired to the room, she'd decided to sleep on the floor instead of the bed, a decision that none of them really understood. It might have been a tight squeeze for both her and Michelle to fit, but it wasn't as if it were with James or David. Sharing a bed with a man would quite understandably have been awkward. Michelle, especially vocal about her annoyance with her friend, tried to force the reason for the odd behaviour out of her, to no avail. Clare was never going to tell any of them about why she found it so awkward to share a bed with another girl. Where they came from, silence was golden on that matter.

The clock crept closely towards midnight, the final moments of Saturday playing out before Sunday's show began. Neither James nor Erin were yet to fall asleep, the two favouring a quiet conversation as opposed to succumbing to tiredness. Fighting a constant battle with her emotions, she was doing her best to keep them talking about fairly uneventful topics that strayed far away from any romantic connotations.

"Should I be worried around your mother then?" He asked as Mary became part of their chatter.

"Well we don't think she's got powers but… ye never know". Erin replied jokingly.

"I would rather avoid any curses".

Mary having seemingly hexed Bridie four years earlier was not something Erin, or the rest of Derry for that matter, could forget so easily. Having told the woman to drop down dead, it became a completely different prospect when the woman did just that. For weeks people avoided her, offering to shelter the rest of the family from her, to be able to avoid the perceived witchcraft that she'd committed. Years later it had become a tale told in humour, but at the time being labelled 'The Wicked Witch of the North West', upset her mother deeply.

"What about yer ma James, ye don't say much about her?"

Erin posed the question to him, watching as he took a sip of his whisky, noticing the slight grimace on his face when she'd mentioned Kathy. She continued to watch him as she sipped at her own drink, waiting to see if he would say anything at all or whether she would need to apologise to him. _She couldn't upset him…_

"I… there's… not much to say really". He finally replied, sighing deeply.

"Ach there must be somethin'?" She pressed. "What about her work? What does she do?"

There was another pause, James trying to gather his thoughts after Erin's questions. It was perfectly natural for her to be inquisitive about his mother, that appeared to exist with more of a mythical status than a living one, but it did not make it any easier.

"To be honest Erin, I am not sure".

"Not sure? How can ye not be sure, ye lived with her for years!"

"She would often work away…". He tried to explain. "… I asked her once about it when she'd left me on my own for a few days. She refused to reply, and I've never enquired since".

"Are ye not worried she might be up to something… illegal?"

"Illegal? My mother?" He laughed heartily at her. "I can't imagine her getting caught up on the wrong side of the law".

Acknowledging that James was either withholding information from her or simply did not want to discuss Kathy any further, Erin quickly ceased any further lines of enquiry into the former Derry resident who'd gone off to England.

"The dance sounds like it will be a spectacular evening".

James deciding to turn to small talk about _that_ evening on the horizon did her no favours at all. All of the young lads and girls their age would be at the dance, held in the main hall of their old school, an event organised by a certain nemesis of hers.

Jenny Joyce

With her loyalties divided between attempting to keep her own sanity and listening to the painful pangs of her heart, Erin was trapped. If she asked James to the dance, then not only would she be unable to control her feelings, but would incur the speculation of the rest of the city. Yet she also couldn't let Jenny get her claws back on James either. However, the moment she'd heard about the party, her head had always intervened on sanity's side and was doing so again.

"Aye. Will ye be goin' with Jenny?" She tentatively asked, fearing the answer.

"I would hope not. I do not think I would feel comfortable accompanying her".

"Too right, she's a real head melter!". Erin grinned, James grinning with her, before becoming agitated a mere few seconds later. "I… I would have asked ye to go with me, but…".

"Erin". He confidently spoke her name. "I understand. Judging by Michelle's reaction to me doing anything more than breathing, I do realise why you would not want her to start shouting incorrect statements about people from the rooftops".

"Yer such a nice fella ye know". She flashed him a warm smile.

"You flatter me Erin, I only try to act as honourably and gentlemanly as I can…". He laughed. "Besides, a young woman as kind and beautiful as yourself ought to be able enjoy an evening dancing. My presence would cause too many raised eyebrows".

"James!"

_She would only enjoy it if he were there…_

"I am not telling any lies. Erin, you truly are a beautiful young woman, who I am lucky to have as my friend".

Erin could feel her skin heating up as he spoke, turning her head away to try to hide the adorably rose-coloured cheeks that she once again sported. Certainly not turning away because she could have forced her lips onto his at that moment…

A second later, before either had chance to speak, a yawn was ripped from her, acting as an initial indicator into how tired she was. The yawn caught on as he too was yawning a moment later, after what ended up in being a particularly busy day for him. The quick turnaround in getting a meal prepared for six was a difficulty, taking more out of his energy resources than he'd planned for.

"Another drink?" James broke the slightly tense air.

"Ach go on then, another whisky please James".

"Two minutes, and your nightcap will await you".

Chuckling to themselves, James excused himself to hunt down his special bottle of alcohol that he'd deliberately kept stashed away from Michelle earlier on. Having a drink with Erin Quinn, whilst the fireplace crackled in front of them to keep them warm felt special; a special drink could be toasted to it. Remembering that he'd hidden it in the corner of the small pantry at the cottage, the Englishman walked off to retrieve it. It took him a minute, through his own intake plus general tiredness, to fully prepare their nightcaps. He could hear the snores of the other four in the background, Michelle being just as loud when she was asleep did not surprise him one bit. Everything that his cousin opened her mouth about always appeared to clock in with a few too many decimals.

As he prepared the drinks, his thoughts turned to his mother. Erin mentioning her whilst they spoke was not entirely unwelcome, though the after effect had began to hit him hard. There was still no letter as promised, which had niggled away at him throughout that week without ever threatening to cause any emotional overspill. Through his gentlemanly nature of playing devil's advocate, he considered the possibility that she was merely waiting until her life on the continent had settled before getting in contact with him. After all, with the growing influence and power of certain countries, writing a letter back could have been difficult too. He would just have to remain patient. _She'd always love him…_

However, once the drinks were made, he quickly realised there was no need to have done any of it. Returning to their spot in front of the fireplace, Erin's head had lulled to one side and small snores were drifting out from within. Stopping to admire her enchanting looks again, he studied every inch of her face as it was scrunched up, delving deeper into sleep.

With some careful movement, James placed her down to a more comfortable position to sleep in, Erin muttering a 'Thank You' from deep within the realms of her dreams. Dreams that he hoped were pleasant for her.

Taking another look at her, James hesitated, checking all around them in case any of the others had woken. The last thing he wanted was one of them misunderstanding a simple action as they rose to use the toilet or get a drink of their own. Satisfied they were alone, he leant down and placed a simple kiss to her forehead.

"Good night Erin".

A couple of minutes later, the snores of two very good friends competed with the crackling of the fire to provide the ambient backdrop to that night at the cottage.

Two very good friends.

_Nothing more…_


	7. The Dance

**Chapter 7: The Dance 2nd** **June 1939**

A blisteringly hot day made conditions for working quite unbearable that Friday afternoon. Sarah had already coined it the hottest day of the year ten minutes after waking up to the stifling early morning sun. The rest of the girls in the factory were all in agreement by nine o'clock, sweat pouring off them as they worked their machines. The supervisor Meyler was that concerned about the heat, he'd even sent Orla home for the day so that she didn't overwork herself in the heat. Attempting to earn the same treatment as her friend, Michelle had pretended to feint just after Orla left, though everyone in the factory could have told her that it was absurd. Meyler threatened to dock her pay if the semantics continued it was that poor. The girls carried on their working day afterward and had finished all of their orders by three o'clock, prompting the supervisor to allow them to leave earlier. An oddly kind gesture, but not one that was without reason.

That night was the big dance at the school.

They would have to contend with the heat as they jived into the night too. Nearly all of the young people in the city were gearing up for a fun, if sweltering, evening of entertainment. A local band would be providing the music that they would be dancing to, in addition to the more than likely lavish refreshments that would be on offer. The only thorn in their sides would be their former headmistress from their school days, Sister Michael, who'd insisted on being present to police the event. There were far too many of her former students in attendance for her to be content that the dance would go smoothly. Especially when the likes of Michelle Mallon and Erin Quinn would be there. They terrified her.

"I'm buzzin for tonight!" The former of those two girls said to the others as they walked towards the Mallon house.

"Me too, David said we can practice dancin' for the wedding!" An equally excitable Orla commented.

"Christ you'll need it…". Michelle snorted in reply. "… I remember how shite he was at dancin' at the Christmas dance last year".

The Christmas dance of 1938 was another reason why Sister Michael demanded to be present that evening. It had all gone swimmingly until one young man decided to be clever and add something extra to the punch, causing a wave of sickness to descend upon the dancefloor. Michelle was one of those to deposit with the contents of her stomach, Erin and David too, Orla and Clare only avoiding the same fate due to not drinking the foul concoction. It took hours for the school to be cleaned after it. There would not be a repeat of that night.

"Then again, I reckon John-Paul's a shite dancer too".

The young Mallon aimed her comment at Erin, who replied with a shake of the head and a roll of the eyes. Her date for the dance was the very same lad who'd kissed her on the cheek outside church a couple of months before, a lad that once upon a time she'd insisted on being in a relationship with. However, that was all before James. James who wouldn't be taking her to the dance that night because she didn't want the grief from all quarters about her going to the dance with an Englishman. Instead, it would be the less handsome John-Paul who would have the honour of leading her in to enjoy the evening's revelry.

"I'm surprised he wanted to take ye to be honest…". Clare started to ramble. "… I mean, I've only seen ye speak to him twice after that… peck on the cheek… at church".

"Surprised? I've said to ye all before, we're just figurin' things out slowly…".

Erin gave her stock answer, but with nowhere near the level of conviction she had done in the past. She could no longer muster that level of bluster.

"Why don't ye figure it out when ye ridin' him later?"

"Michelle! Unlike you, I don't drop me knickers at every chance I can with a lad".

"Don't we know it…".

"Yeah well, I'm looking for something more than just sex Michelle. Ye know… an intellectual connection and love".

"Intellectual?" Michelle laughed. "Catch yourself on! Ye won't find an intellectual connection with John-Paul O'Reilly!"

Happening to be one of the rare times when Michelle was correct, Erin found herself cornered. She knew as well as her friend that John-Paul was hardly a man of intellect or sophistication, working as a labourer in one of the warehouses down at the docks. She wasn't even sure if he could read or write. Not like James. James was the very definition of the intellectual connection that Erin yearned for… as well as the physical one…

"Ye well, at least I'm allowed to take a fella".

Michelle's vicious groan in return threatened to send Erin into hysterical laughter. After the incident with Johnny Kells, the only three men that she was allowed to go anywhere near where her father, Meyler the supervisor and James, as well as Gerry, David or Joe if she happened to be at the Quinn house. Martin and Deirdre had remained furious for over a week after the fateful Saturday morning discovery and were still hostile at times to their daughter. She wasn't allowed to go chasing the boys at all unless she vacated her room at the family home, which would be impossible on her wages. Clare would be her date for the dance, the two friends having agreed to go as just that rather than seek a male companion each. It conveniently solved a problem for the diminutive blonde, a problem that the other knew nothing about. _She couldn't know…_

"I mean no offence Clare".

"Aye I know Erin… but for once can we not bicker about… _boys_. I'd like to enjoy the evening, at least as much as we can with this heat".

They all nodded their heads in agreement, Orla doing so with a pinch more enthusiasm than what was really needed.

"It could have been worse though…". Michelle reasoned. "… ye could have been goin' with James".

It would have been a lie to agree with Michelle, forcing Erin into silence. There would have been nothing better than what her friend was suggesting.

"Where is James anyway?" Clare questioned instead.

"He told me ma that he had some gardenin' to do or some shite… the prick couldn't find a girl to go with more like…".

Gardening was James' plan for the night. Contrary to his cousin belief though, he could have attended. There were no shortage of girls who'd asked whatsoever…

"This fuckin' heat is a killer ye know. I bet Big Mandy will be sweatin' her hole off!" Michelle snorted.

"Christ, Big Mandy in a dress… I'm not sure I want to see that". Erin jested along with her.

"Is Big Mandy allowed to wear a dress?"

The girls were all howling at Orla's vocalisation of her thoughts. It was fine to make comments about Big Mandy when she wasn't around. She couldn't do damage if she couldn't hear them.

They would make sure to keep quiet at the dance though.

* * *

Mary had the luxury of finishing early like the girls, though she had some business to take care of first, arriving home at the normal time on a Friday to find Erin in the bath. With the heat that day, she relented on her usually strict regime when it came to using it, knowing that her daughter would want to be at her best for the dance. With how much she'd gone on about the lad who was supposedly taking her that night, she wouldn't want to ruin it by having her Erin smelling of sweat. That would be most unpleasant.

Gerry returned home a few minutes after his wife, Anna in tow after having retrieved her from Joe next door, receiving his usual verbal assault for the two minutes that he was in his father in-law's presence. Coming home from a hard day on the trains to Joe's unrelenting complaints would always serve as a test of his patience. He was yet to hit the man. _Yet…_

"Have you been a good girl for Granda, Anna?" Mary asked her youngest as she ran into the kitchen.

"Yes Mammy!" She replied cheerfully.

"Did ye do yer readin'?"

Anna nodded her head sincerely in reply.

"I did all the readin', but I don't think Granda liked it".

"Why do ye say that love?" Gerry asked his daughter.

"He fell asleep when I was on the last chapter. Does that mean I'm not very good?"

Mary and Gerry exchanged an amused look over Anna's head. Joe was known for his afternoon naps in the summer sun and Anna had learned the hard way that he was partial to a little sleep after lunch. Though she wasn't visibly upset, there was evident disappointment in her voice, disappointment that her parents wouldn't let fester.

"No love…" Mary started, pulling her into a hug. "… it just means yer Granda is getting a bit older and when ye get older, ye sometimes need a bit of a sleep in the day".

"That's what Granda said to me when he woke up!"

"And he's right…" Gerry confirmed with a smile. "… yer Granda needs to save all his energy for shoutin' at me, so he does".

Mary's face dropped with her husband's comment, especially as Anna began to giggle at it along with him. He quickly ceased his merriment when he saw the face of thunder he was receiving from his wife, that painstakingly reminded him of the many angered faces he'd received from Joe over the years.

"Can I go see Erin?" Anna asked her parents.

"She's in the bath love, so ye'll have to wait. Why don't ye go out into the garden and enjoy the weather?"

"Okay Mammy!"

Anna scampered off out into the back garden, where she found an old chair that they'd left outside and sat in it, the sun bouncing off her skin. Gerry moved to join Mary in the kitchen, the two watching over their little daughter whilst she quietly settled in the garden.

"Hard day love?" Mary asked as his hand slipped around her waist.

"Aye… Alan was moanin' again".

"Again? Christ, that man has nothin' better to do by the sounds of it!"

Alan was a colleague of Gerry's on the docks railway, an unpopular one amongst most of the workforce. Gerry had known him for years, the two having started their jobs on the railway on the very same day. For the first few years they were close friends, but after his wife ran off, Alan began to gradually spiral into a series of delusions and theories. He was convinced he'd been abducted by creatures from another planet one night, before being returned to the earth, a story which lowered his workplace reputation significantly. He refused to ever acknowledge that he might have just been a wee bit mad. Some had even attempted to get him fired, but the boss didn't want to fire the man who did his actual job so diligently every day.

"His latest theory is about those German fella's". Gerry explained. "And that they want to form some sort of, and I quote, 'Master race'… can ye believe it?"

"Pfff! Master race, what's he talkin' about!"

"I know love, that was my thought too".

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I think those wee German's aren't so nice, but Alan's gettin' a bit extreme there. Master race… honestly!"

"He wouldn't stop with that either. He says he has evidence".

"Evidence?" Mary retorted. "Gerry, there's more chance of Kathy Maguire sleepin' with that Hitler fella than there is of his lot creatin' a Master race".

Whilst the two continued to debate away, Erin listened in from upstairs. Out of the bath and drying in her room, she was intrigued by the conversation about the Germans. Having read up about them and their supposed beliefs via newspapers, as well as books from the library, she didn't think Alan was too far from the truth. There was the violence and discrimination against Jewish people in Germany the autumn before, with many murdered according to the papers. If the German leaders could allow such abominable violence to take place without severe punishment, then them creating a master race wasn't much of a stretch.

But the thoughts about the Germans would have to wait for another day. She had an evening of dancing to think about first.

Which started with her dress.

When she'd set out to make the dress herself weeks earlier, long before she even knew the dance would take place, it appeared to be a good idea. She certainly believed in her own ability to be able to make a beautiful dress for herself, albeit with the dutiful assistance of her mother. Mary was hostile to the idea from the beginning, having said no to Erin when she asked her mother to put some money aside to help her purchase one months before. The original intention was to have the dress for better occasions in the summer when the weather was warmer, with it being a thinner fabric to keep her cooler. Only when the dance came about did the finished product need to have an additional layer of perfection, as she knew she would have to impress John-Paul with it. _She had to impress him…_

The problem with it came with how laborious it was to actually get the dress on. It might have been a lighter fabric, but it made it no easier to actually squeeze into. The dress still ended up fitting quite tightly to her body. Mary had warned her about it doing so whilst it was being crafted and she was being proven to be spot on. A woman from the famine times would have slipped into it without an issue, but a young woman who ate regularly was always going to find it a challenge. Even a streamlined one such as her.

James wouldn't have minded if she'd worn her work clothes. She knew that much. The visit to the bank earlier that day was a particularly hard one for her. She'd spat out another round of apologies for going to the dance with another man, but ever the gentleman, he'd insisted that she did not think any more of it. He was well aware that his presence at the dance wouldn't be well received by a lot of the other lads his age, given the English accent, even if a lot of the girls could see past it. She'd known about his gardening plans too from their conversation, mainly due to her conscience having to be sure that he wouldn't ruin the evening by changing his mind and attending with Jenny. Thankfully he hadn't. Not that it eased her guilt in how she continued to fight her true feelings, acting with cowardice when it came to the dance… and him.

She was going with the wrong man.

At least that's what she convinced herself as the web of hidden feelings and lies continued to grow…

* * *

Finishing their dinner, Mary, Gerry and Anna were greeted by the sight of Erin and Orla walking towards the kitchen. The two girls looked resplendent in their respective dresses, though Erin was far more unsteady on her feet in hers. Mary winced as the fears that her daughter had made the dress a couple of sizes too small came true before her eyes; it was suffocating Erin. Orla on the other hand looked the piece, her dress nicely fitting over her bump. Sarah followed in behind them, marvelling at just how well her daughter and niece looked.

"You girls are lookin' fabulous, don't ye think Mary?"

"Aye right". She responded drolly.

"Ach mammy, yer too kind". Orla flashed a smile at her mother.

Anna looked at the two in awe. She saw them both every day, yet they were both different in their appearance. With plenty of makeup on between them, they were so far apart from their normal looks it was quite shocking for a three year old.

"Who are you?" She nervously asked them.

"Who do ye think Anna?" Erin chuckled. "It's only a wee bit of makeup!"

"In her defence, it is actually quite a lot…".

"Gerry!"

Mary sternly cut her husband off in his attempt to stick up for his younger daughter over his older one. Unfortunately for him, that would be the start of a few minutes of hell, as the front door opened to reveal Joe and David walking into the house. Whilst the latter would pose him no trouble, the former would certainly be ready to berate him in any way possible. They were both dressed up in suits, David wearing that particular suit for the final time before his new one would arrive ahead of the wedding.

"Why is Granda dressed up?" Anna posed the question to the rest of them.

"I'm going along too Anna. Orla needs two men to go with her ye know, one for her and one for the baby".

"Ach Granda, that's really sweet of ye". Erin harmonised to him.

"I know".

Pleasant enough with the girls, Joe turned to Gerry with a scowl, despite his son in-law saying nothing to him since he'd walked into the house. Just being there was enough. They stood talking as a group for a few minutes, mostly Mary and Sarah warning the men to look after Orla that evening, with Erin too being given a degree of responsibility for her cousin. It was understandable that there was such a focus on Orla's welfare given the pregnancy, but she wasn't too fussed at all. She was instead looking forward to an evening dancing with her beloved.

"I wish you'd worn yer matching dress Erin…". Orla said to her cousin. "… we used to go to party's dressed the same when we were wee".

"We're not wee now Orla". Erin huffed in returned.

"Right, we best be off". Joe said to them.

"Aye, come on then".

David addressed his partner with an arm held out for her to link hers through, an arm which was taken a second later. The tender action brought a tear to Sarah's eye.

"Are ye comin' love?" Joe then addressed Erin.

"John-Paul's pickin' me up about seven, you's go on ahead and I'll see ye there".

"Alright". Her Granda replied to her.

He led the way out of the house, with the couple linked at the arms sauntering on behind him. The school was a fair walk away, but they would be taking it steadily to enjoy the gorgeous early summer weather. There would be plenty of couples doing the same as they too headed off towards Our Lady Immaculate, with an expected attendance of around two hundred for the dance in the main hall. The whole city was awash with activity that night, with friends meeting up to bask in the beautiful fading sun.

Sitting down at the dining table in the kitchen, Mary shared looks with her Sister and her Husband, looks that were akin to winces once more. She'd always had a feeling about Erin's supposed date for the dance and had prepared for the worst. The winces were magnified to a whole other level when Erin sat down with them at the table, awkwardly lowering herself into the seat.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The band began to play as the first young people took to the floor to dance. Michelle and Clare were two of the first to arrive, but neither could find anyone to dance with. Clare wasn't too bothered about that at all though, the thought of having to be in such close proximity with a boy who might try something on with her was petrifying. Dancing with her friend was out of the question, Michelle making it very clear that she would only accept a male dancing partner. Usually able to lure nearly any lad that she set eyes on, all of the young men that arrived either alone or with a partner were doing their upmost to avoid her. Johnny Kells was nowhere to be seen, which upset her immensely. She was hoping that they might finally have another chance to be with each other, but unbeknownst to her, Martin had already shut that window of opportunity. The young Kells man received a visit from the Mallon patriarch earlier that week, the older man making sure the younger one would not attend the dance. It had worked.

"What the fuck's this!" Michelle finally voiced her frustrations. "All the lads are avoidin' me like I've got some sort of fuckin' plague!"

"It's hardly a wonder is it Michelle!" An equally frustrated Clare responded.

"What the fuck do ye mean?"

"Oh… I don't know… the last lad that ye were with was chased down the street by yer da and Orla's dog, before being beaten up by yer da".

"It's not like that's goin' to happen again is it!?"

"They don't know that Michelle!"

The two friends crossed their arms and turned away from each other, frustrated with one another. They stayed silent in their positions for a minute or so, watching the dancing go by without participating. It did not stay quiet for long however, as they were approached by someone that they'd been hoping to avoid.

Sister Michael.

"Miss Mallon… Miss Devlin… why the long faces?"

"Evening Sister". Michelle responded first, unfolding her arms. "We're fine. Just waiting".

"Waiting? If yer waiting for dance partners, then I think ye'll be waitin' some time". The Sister deduced dryly. "Your reputation proceeds you Miss Mallon".

Hatred was too strong a word to describe Michelle's feelings towards her old headmistress, but she certainly did not like her. Throughout her school days, Sister Michael would ruin any fun or mischief that she'd got up to with her incredible ability to sniff out trouble. Often rude to her students, she could hide behind her status a nun in order to rule over the students with an iron fist.

"Have ye forgotten how to speak Miss Devlin?" She turned her glare to the blonde.

"N-No… good evening Sister".

"I would have thought you would have grown out of the nervousness… it's very disappointing Miss Devlin".

Words failed Clare as the Sister revealed her apparent displeasure at her unfortunate nature, causing a wave of tears to appear in the corners of her eyes. Like Michelle, she didn't hate their former head mistress, but the woman absolutely terrified the life out of her. She'd once gone out for a walk in the fields with her face covered as if she were suffering from the Spanish Flu and somehow the Sister recognised her from a mile off. A more suspicious person would have perhaps concluded that the Sister was some sort of government spy, sent to watch their daily lives and report back to the powers that be.

"I hope you girls won't be causing any trouble this evening". Sister Michael took on a sterner tone. "I will not have ye running amok as if ye were twelve again, do ye hear me?"

"Wise up, we're adults now Sister!". Michelle angrily retorted.

"Don't you take that tone with me Miss Mallon! I can very easily have ye removed!"

"Now list-".

"Michelle!" Clare warned her. "Come on, let's get a drink".

Pulling the dark-haired girl away from the head mistress, still muttering a few choice words under her breath at the perceived insolence of the nun, they were soon joined at the bar. Joe and David arrived, with Orla in between them having an arm hooked around each. It was a beautiful sight to behold as the three strolled up to the bar. Plenty of other young men and women wished Orla well, noting her ever-growing bump where her and David's child grew.

"Yer lookin' well Joe". Michelle addressed him first.

"Aye. I know".

"Ye don't scrub up too badly yerself David". She added.

"Thank ye". He replied, furrowing his brow at her unexpectedly kind comment.

"Why aren't you's dancin'?" Orla questioned the two girls.

"I can't find anyone to dance with and Clare doesn't seem too bothered anyway…".

"I'll dance with ye".

Quickly turning her head to find his eyes, Michelle was taken aback by Joe's offer. He was forever telling her off about her use of poor language, despite being just as bad himself, and could be quite harsh to her on occasions. She'd heard what he'd had to say after the Johnny Kells incident from Erin too, a scathing view of her conduct being presented by him. To find him then offering to dance with her was most peculiar.

"Come on".

He held his hand out to Michelle, who took it without hesitation. Joe led her out onto the dance floor, where they were accompanied by David and Orla, leaving Clare to watch on with a beaming smile on her face. She might not have been able to safely relish the entertainment on offer that evening, but the joyful grins on her friends faces warmed her to the core instead. Not that she needed any further warmth, the late summer sun still beating mercilessly outside.

_Where are Erin and John-Paul?_

That thought stuck with her as the dancing continued.

And would do so for a while…

* * *

The big clock continued to tick on in the kitchen of the Quinn household. It had first drifted past seven o'clock with Erin's hopes for the evening remaining in good stead despite no one having turned up at the house to whisk her away. It was at quarter past when Mary's concerns were raised further, with Gerry and Sarah soon silently agreeing with her fears. They knew by half past seven that John-Paul O'Reilly wouldn't be turning up to the house to take Erin to the dance that night. In reality, Mary knew that long before the evening had begun, but any chance that she could have been incorrect in her belief evaporated.

Before long, it was eight o'clock, and their concerns for Erin had increased even further. She'd ceased making direct eye contact with any of them by that time, the rare glimpses of her eyes showing a glazed dam of tears ready to be dispensed like a waterfall. Her breaths had been infiltrated by her inner devastation at sitting miserably in the house whilst nearly everyone she knew was out dancing the night away. Her thoughts would constantly turn to James as she sat in silence, chastising her cowardice yet again as she pondered what a night like him would have been like. The English fella might have been the most kind and beautiful young man she'd ever set her eyes upon, but he had wreaked merry hell with her life since his arrival. It was not his fault, the poor lad didn't understand the inner turmoil he caused by being in her life, though it was due to him that she knew she wouldn't be going anywhere that night.

Because she'd never even asked John-Paul.

When they'd spoken outside church in the weeks after his kiss, their conversations were short and mostly in passing. He was not remotely interested in Erin in any romantic way, a fact that she was very much aware of. He already had a girlfriend in Ciara, whom he'd taken away to Belfast that weekend on the train. Not many people knew of his plans, but Erin happened to be one after he'd told her a few weeks earlier following the end of a Sunday morning service at church. The lies began from that moment onwards, because she dared not reveal her true wish of arriving at the dance on James' arm to spend the night waltzing with him… and hopefully share a kiss by the climax. _If not more…_

"He's not coming". She uttered the statement she'd known for a long time at half-eight.

"Look love…". Mary tried to start.

"I'm going to get changed". Erin interrupted her.

A stabbing pain ran through her heart as Mary heard the defeated tone in her eldest daughter's voice. Erin had no idea that her mother happened to be one of the other people who knew John-Paul wouldn't even be in Derry that night. She'd seen the young man in the street the prior weekend and had thanked him for taking her Erin to the dance. When he in turn told her that no such arrangement had taken place, Mary knew she would continue with the lies to save face. She'd already began to suspect that Erin had moved on from the O'Reilly lad that she'd pined for over the course of a couple of years. She also suspected that Erin's fears over confessing whom her young heart beat so strongly for, prevented her from going with the Englishman.

Mary didn't need to be Professor Einstein to know her daughter was in love with him. The fella himself might not have realised, not that it mattered. She would see to it that he did in time.

"Maybe, leave it another few minutes…". She suggested to her daughter.

"I want to get out of this thing".

Without another word, Erin painfully extracted herself from the chair at the table. There were not only tears in her eyes, but in her mother's and her Aunt's as well. Sarah was completely unaware of the situation with John-Paul, with Mary choosing to keep the information to herself as to not embarrass Erin any further. She felt anger towards the man who was ruining the perfect Friday evening for her niece, guilty that all the other wains their age would be out having a great time and Erin would be alone in her room crying most likely.

Shuffling off in the direction of the stairs, tears painfully pricked her eyes. She was such a fool for lying about John-Paul taking her to the dance. After having ran through how the scenario would pan out in her head, she thought she'd have felt totally fine afterwards. There might have been a tear or two that drifted out slowly, but they would be tears of a crocodile, not ones taken from actual human feelings. Except they were taken from actual feelings… her feelings. And inside, Erin Quinn felt incomprehensibly awful. Knowing that her parents and Aunt received front row seats for the disastrous evening only heightened her pitiful embarrassment.

Taking her step onto the first stair, with her hand gripping onto the bannister, a lone tear trickled down Erin's face, splashing onto the carpet beneath her. However, it would be the one and only tear that would do so that night.

For the night was about to christened by a knight… in shining armour.

There was a knock on the door behind her that stopped Erin dead in her tracks. If it were any of the others returning home or even a family friend such as Deirdre, then they would have just walked in without knocking. It couldn't have been John-Paul as he was off enjoying the nightlife of Belfast with Ciara as opposed to the Derry dance that he could have attended with her. Uncle Colm was her immediate contender. He would turn up unannounced quite a lot, especially on Friday night's and he would sometimes knock ahead of coming in too. It would have made sense if it was the boring old man. Except it wasn't.

It was her wildest dream instead.

Opening the door, Erin found the beautiful Englishman, ready to ambush her with one of his knee-buckling lopsided grins. Her heart jumped up and down like an athlete celebrating an Olympic gold medal. Blood raced all around her in a split second, her face, already heated from the natural warmth of the day, began to feel like it had caught fire.

A face on fire because of James Maguire.

"Your mum came to see me at the bank this afternoon…".

His words were like a lullaby to her, making her flutter her lashes at him, wanting to fall forward into his arms to stay there forever. It wouldn't have quite been literal though, as he had his hands behind his back rather than out ready to catch a falling young Quinn. He'd donned a plain suit to arrive in at the house that night, with a pristine black bow tie accompanying it. His hair was just as slick as ever, combed to the style that Erin loved the most. He smelt lovely too, the very finest Eau de Cologne aftershave applied. Quite how she was managing to stay on her feet was a mystery to her.

"But what about yer gardening?" She enquired with him.

"Why I've bought it with me…".

He paused to move his hands from behind his back, revealing a solitary rose. What felt like a stream of a thousand emotions flooded into her conscience in a mighty tidal surge, drowning out the thoughts of everything else in the world. Moving her hand forward to accept the tenderly prepared flower, their hands brushed for a solitary moment, but it was enough to send Erin down to her final string of control. One more snap and there would be nothing she could do, knowing that she would launch herself at the Englishman with reckless abandon.

"The rest of it is not important". He continued on, a grin from ear to ear. "Shall we go?"

Dreams could come true. The same dreams that had followed her around every day for the past week, infiltrating her head whilst she sat at her machine. The dreams that distracted her whilst she was out picking cranberries with her mother the Sunday afternoon prior. But in her dreams with James, she wasn't wearing the hideous monstrosity that she'd erected for herself and if the night was to be perfect, she had to get out of the dress like she'd told her mother that she would.

"Can ye give me one minute?"

His enthusiastic nod came incredibly close to severing that final string of control, but Erin held firm, replicating his ear-to-ear grin from moments earlier. Turning on her heel, she quickly started off up the stairs, rose in hand, leaving the young Englishman smiling as he watched her ascent. He took a step into the house to find Mary and Gerry approaching him from the kitchen. They'd stayed out of view when he'd knocked the door but listened in intently to the conversation between the youngsters afterwards.

"Thank you James". Mary addressed him quietly, reaching out to put her hand on his. "Yer a brilliant young fella".

"It is my pleasure". He smiled as he replied to her. "Though I must ask your forgiveness for being so late, I had to work longer today at the bank and…".

"Yer here for my Erin son". Gerry cut him off, placing a hand on his shoulder. "That's all that matters".

Gerry might have come to the realisation later than his wife, but he could see the potential for something brewing between his daughter and the dashing young Englishman that was stood in his hallway. Speaking to him a little more before Erin was ready, he learnt of how the Englishman had prioritised his gardening over going dancing, even on his own. That was until Erin's night came under threat from her own mountain of lies. He wouldn't change his plans for anyone except her. That was more than just a simple friendship to Gerry. A very good friendship perhaps… a very good one indeed.

Hearing footsteps on the floorboards upstairs, Mary and Gerry retreated back into the kitchen to re-join Sarah; Anna had long been put to bed whilst they'd waited with Erin. James re-adjusted his bow tie in the hallway mirror to look at his absolute best for when she returned. Hearing more footsteps, he turned to see her at the top of the stairs in a far simpler dress, the same dress which Orla was wearing. He performed a double take with how stunning she looked, suited to the much more simple dress than the complicated one she'd made for herself. Instinctively he held out his arm for her, keeping his eyes on hers as she descended the stairs to return to his side.

With her arm linked around his, they walked out towards his Morgan that was parked up at the bottom of the path from the Quinn house.

All her worries about being judged for going to the dance with him ceased. Erin breathed and for once, drank in the joy of being able to live out her dreams.

The perfect night.

* * *

It was getting on for nine o'clock and Clare still couldn't work out what had happened to Erin and John-Paul. Or at least, she hoped that he hadn't stood her up. Even for all of Erin's ridiculous behaviour when it came to him, she would be saddened to hear that he'd left her to a night alone. There would be no scenario where Erin would turn up on her own either, knowing she would be too embarrassed to admit that there really wasn't anything between her and the fella, like they'd been telling her for weeks. Apart from worrying from her friend, she'd had an enjoyable evening with the rest of the group. Throwing caution to the wind, she even danced with Erin's Granda Joe like Michelle had done at the start of the night. It wasn't like having to make contact with another lad her age; Joe wasn't going to try and force an unwanted advance on her.

With the heat only lessening to a slight extent as the evening continued on, she was outside in the school field with Michelle, who was using the break in the crisper night air to have a cigarette and cool off. There were a lot of others congregated outside too, so they were stood by the gate to the adjoining farmer's field, where a hundred or more sheep were grazing in the summer air.

"Look at them…". The very drunk Michelle waved her finger towards the sheep. "… grazin' there…".

"Christ Michelle, how much have ye had?" Clare rounded on her.

"Ach jus… jus' one or two…". She sniggered her reply.

The reality… was more like seven or eight… of whatever she'd even drank. Clare was busy dancing with Joe when Michelle had approached the bar, finding in her in a similar state to how she was outside once the band took a few minutes break. Sister Michael was monitoring her but found it more amusing to let the young Mallon girl pay the price for her excesses the following morning, allowing the drinking session to continue. Staggering out for her cigarette, one or two lads made beelines towards her in the hopes of taking advantage in her drunken state, but found themselves fiercely rebuked by a protective Clare.

"I reckon… I reckon…". Michelle swayed erratically on her feet whilst she spoke. "… I reckon that I… that these sheep… need… to fffuck off!"

"Aye… right. There just sheep Michelle and yer drunk!"

"Piss off Clare… stop having ye cack attacks… ye little… fretter!"

Michelle continued to laugh at her own drunken antics, which weren't amusing her blonde friend in the slightest. She'd seen Michelle drunk before, knowing that they were at the phase of having to ride out the storm of the dark-haired girls' stupid comments.

Whilst the two continued to argue away, around the front of the school, a solitary car appeared in the front courtyard. James arrived with Erin in the Morgan, the two chatting away happily for the whole journey. Erin's heartrate had finally steadied on their drive over to Our Lady Immaculate, having avoided discussion on any romantic topics with James. She spent the first half of their journey apologising from pulling him away from his original plan of doing gardening that evening. It wasn't essential that he did it then anyway, and he told her that after such a long day at work, he might not have done too much of it, preferring a quiet night's reading with a glass of something stronger instead. The other half of the journey revolved around Erin telling him of some of the trouble they used to get in at school, with James exchanging stories of some of his own rebellious school day actions. Though her aims existed beyond the bounds of friendship, she'd never felt as comfortable sharing stories around anyone than she did when she shared them with James, a grand testament to their strong friendship.

"Here we are then". He said to her once they'd stopped. "You wait just there, my lady".

_CHRIST!_

Unintentionally, James short-circuited Erin's brain again, to the extent that she believed she could not glow any pinker without being classed as a flamingo. James' flamingo. A title which she would embrace if it were given to her… because someone would have recognised her as James'… something that she wanted to be.

The English fella walked around the back of the car to the passenger's side, opening the door for her. She beamed an appreciative smile at him, taking his hand to help her out of the Morgan once it had been offered.

"You look… stunning".

The deep sincerity of his voice could have been confirmed by anyone, not just Erin in her greatest dreams or another one of her insane delusions. Her poor knees would need to be replaced before long, as every time James opened his mouth, they seemed to fly the flag of surrender.

"Such a gentleman". She breathily whispered once they were stood together beside the car. "Ye know… I'm happy that it's you takin' me".

The words slipped out, the barriers that protected her honesty suddenly giving way. Her own eyes widened once she'd realised exactly what she'd admitted, though there was no reaction from the Englishman at first. Erin took it that he must not have believed or perhaps he…

"I could never have convinced myself to have anyone other than you on my arm, Erin".

Not only were her knees faltering, but the rest of her body began to slip into an uncontrollable overdrive too. She was going to kiss him this time, nothing was going to stop her. The time had come to finally…

His arm managed to prove her wrong. He offered it again for her to take and clinging to it prevented her attaching their bodies passionately at the lips. Simmering down as she relaxed into his grip, Erin battled to regain control of her emotions, a victory achieved when they arrived at the hall. With the dancing in full swing, barely anyone noticed their presence in the main hall. And those that did, didn't seem to care too much that she'd arrived with an Englishman. Orla did notice their presence though and pulled both David and her Granda Joe over to greet the new arrivals in the room. The two men wore equally knowing expressions.

David already knew that there was more than just a spark of friendship between Orla's cousin and the lad who was slowly becoming his best friend. He already knew that Erin was keen. James walking into the main hall with her on his arm, a grin as wide as the mouth of the Foyle, allowed him to gather the evidence to the theory in his head that James was unknowingly keen himself. It would be something for him to ask the Englishman on their likely meetup the following day, though he was wary of annoying his friend… who was after all buying him a high-class suit for his wedding.

Joe had kept his opinion on Erin and James silent for a while, an opinion formed after a chance sighting of the two one Friday lunchtime. Taking Anna on a wee walk around the city, Joe noticed the two wains sat on a park bench eating their respective lunches, giggling away. It may have only been a fleeting glance, but the way Erin was looking at James told him enough. He remembered when, as a young man, Marie had looked at him the same way. A look of love. James might have been English and a complete outsider in Derry, yet ever since Joe shook his hand on their first meeting, the firm grip of the shake told him that the young man would be more than good enough for his granddaughter. Just like David was the perfect man for his other granddaughter.

"Where's John-Paul?" Orla enquired with her cousin.

"He erm… something else came up and James happened to be passing…".

"James son". Joe addressed him loudly over the drowning music, his hand already presented for another firm shake. "Thank ye".

The two men shook hands firmly, David watching with a smile on his face as they did. Releasing James from his grasp seconds later, Joe allowed him to take Erin's arm again, leading her to the dancefloor ready for the next tune to begin. The song was slow and melodic, James gripping his hand tightly to Erin's waist, with Erin in turn placing a hand on his shoulder. Their free hands clasped together as they moved from side to side, vanishing into the crowd of other young couples who were dancing, some of whom kissed whilst doing so. Except they were just friends in a sea of lovers…

Friends that took comfort in holding each other so tightly…

Friends that were so relaxed that one could rest their head on the other's shoulder halfway through the dance.

"Thank ye". She muttered into that shoulder as they continued to dance.

"For you, I would do anything". He hummed back.

Yes, they were the sort of friends who would do anything for each other at a simple request. But before Erin could investigate the length and depth of his meaning of anything, it was their other friends that reminded them of a different aspect of friendship. The section that covered watching on as some of your best friends made themselves look completely stupid whilst getting into an obscene amount of trouble. The shouting from outside stopped the band from playing immediately. The dance floor dispersed, with every dancer heading in the direction of the windows at the back of the main hall to understand the commotion. What they found… was unexpected to say the least.

There were sheep absolutely everywhere across the school playing field. It was Joe who found the source of the trouble first, pointing out the completely hammered Michelle in the distance, being dragged around by the small, livid figure of Clare. Drunkenly believing that she could ride on one of the sheep's backs, the drunken Mallon had gone round attempting to mount up on one of the woolly animals, to their utter confusion. The ensuing confusion caused them all to huddle up and charge at the one gap that they could all see in the wall that separated their field to the schools. The gate that Clare left open when she'd gone to fetch Michelle from the field. Sister Michael vainly attempted to corral the sheep back towards the gate whilst young men and women were climbing into the farmer's field to avoid being charged down by the woolly devils. Chaos reigned supreme in the school field. Big Mandy was one of those caught outside and she'd tried a completely different tactic, kicking the sheep as they went by. It rapidly turned out that her tactic might have conveyed her physical strength, but also her overwhelming stupidity, when a group of around ten of the sheep made a concerted charge at her, knocking her down into the turf.

"What has Michelle done…". Erin's voice trailed off in disbelief.

"She won't be pulling the wool over anyone's eyes tonight".

James' dry comment silenced the air around their group inside for a brief moment, before they all burst into a fit of laughter.

Erin's crisis was getting worse.

Not only was he charming… handsome… kind… gentlemanly…

He was extremely funny.

For the love of god, he had to be hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James's flamingo is an actual species of Flamingo believe it or not. I've had this weird bit of trivia saved up ready for use and this seemed like the right time :D
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James%27s_flamingo


	8. Continental

**Chapter 8: Continental 12** **th** **June 1939**

The fallout from the dance at Our Lady Immaculate was spectacular, even by Derry standards. The Mallon and Devlin households were hit with financial demands from angry young men and women, whose suits and dresses were ruined by the actions of the daughters of the house. Martin's patience wore extremely thin with everyone other than his wife or James, the latter proving to be the hero of the hour, just as he had been for Erin that night. James paid every single bill that was forced upon either household, weeding out the faked ones first though. His Aunt and Uncle were ashamed of him using his wealth to fix the issues that Michelle had created for them, but he insisted upon doing so, without asking for anything in return. Martin even offered him the chance to choose his cousin's punishment, an offer which was promptly declined. He didn't feel there was any need for her to be punished at all… she was already paying for her drunken foolishness in other ways.

A red-faced Sister Michael could have quite easily throttled the two that night once the sheep were safely back in the correct field. The damage to the attendees was one thing, it took five people to lift Big Mandy up out of her trampled state, but the damage to the school was another. Though they hadn't managed to get into the main hall, a few of the sheep breached one of the side entrances, running amok through that part of the school, including the Sister's office. A couple of them saw fit to leave droppings in her office too. An unsettling rage upon her face, she decreed the punishment to the two girls as if they were still students. And they still were, for she held power over them on that night. Michelle was too drunk to challenge her authority and the cack-attack queen Clare would never have been able to convince her parents she wasn't involved if she disputed the Sister's version of events. They would be spending every Saturday afternoon for the rest of the year cleaning the school, with no financial gain whatsoever. The following day when both were sober and calm, the realisation of their stupidity punched them square in the face. Then when their parents agreed with the enforced labour, their fate was sealed.

The first Saturday of cleaning went by without a major drama, surprising Sister Michael and relieving the two girls. Neither were particularly adept when it came to cleaning the school, though the job was done to a standard that just about satisfied the Sister. That was one of the main points of discussion that occurred on a quiet Monday morning at the factory. The girls had only done a small batch of shirts since arriving for the start of their shift at eight, leaving plenty of time for chatting.

"Come on Michelle, it wasn't that bad". Clare insisted.

"Not that bad? I was fuckin' shattered when I got home".

"Go above and beyond did ye Michelle?" Erin snorted.

Shaking her head at her blonde friend, the young Mallon looked up to the gangway above to see a couple of blokes stood talking. One of them was Meyler the supervisor, the other Eddie Walsh, the man Michelle still insisted was having an affair with Norah.

"Someone should tell Eddie that Norah has a day off".

"Ach, come off it Michelle…". Erin responded to her friend. "… no one believes ye".

"I do!" Orla quickly countered.

"See, Orla does. It's not exactly surprisin' is it?"

"I don't know Michelle… I'd say an extra-marital affair is surprisin'!" The ever-fretting Clare added her opinion on the matter.

"Can ye blame him? Ever since Lyla ran off to Germany or Switzerland… or wherever the fuck it was, he's not been gettin' any".

"They are still married". Erin pointed out.

"Aye they are, but she's off ridin' German fellas so he's ridin' nine fingers Norah. Honestly don't see why you's are surprised".

The talk of the city at the time, Lyla Walsh's sudden decision to run off to a foreign country was seen as strange to those who knew her better. She'd been married to Eddie for twelve years, with their two sons Robert and John being born in that time. They were excelling at school, ensconced in what was believed to be a peaceful, wholesome family life until their mother went away. Luckily for the children, Eddie's parents were supportive and continued to uphold their traditional family values whilst their son tried to cope with his wife abandoning him.

"Anyway, what were you two doin' Saturday?"

"I was at David's so I was, Mammy let me spend the weekend with him". Orla replied to Michelle.

"Not long now eh?" Michelle gave her a playful smack on the arm. "Mrs Donnelly".

The wedding was less than two weeks away. Orla's excitement grew by the day, as did David's, and they had their last full weekend together that weekend. David would be busy seeing to his own tasks during the next weekend, including his visit to the tailors with James, and Orla would be spending it with her mother mostly, who was just as buzzing as the rest of them.

"I can't wait!" Clare delightedly spoke up. "I still can't believe it's happening!".

"I know it's mental!" An unusually giddy Michelle added.

"Aye, I can't believe it either". Erin agreed with her friends. "Strange to think I… ye know, liked David… and now's he marryin' Orla".

There were hums of agreement from around the group, hums that gave Erin hope that they might move onto a different topic and not continue to probe what her Saturday consisted off. Unfortunately for her, the hums did not.

"What about you then Erin, what did ye get up to?"

Clare asked the question in a more than amicable tone.

But even considering the amicability, it was a question that Erin didn't want to answer truthfully…

* * *

_Flashback 10_ _th J_ _une 1939_

With little to get up urgently for, Erin allowed herself a lazy morning in bed. She'd done that many chores around the house that week, even Mary deemed it enough for a reprieve on Saturday morning. The vegetable patch would have been her normal morning task, but her parents had insisted they would cover the job themselves. Quite how they would, with plenty of other jobs to do themselves, was a mystery, but a mystery that she didn't need to spend her time on. Despite the heat, the covers were comfortable to be under as the sun shone into her room through the net curtains that covered the window overlooking the garden. The window remained open throughout the night and through the small gap where the fresh air crept in, the sounds of digging filled the room. No doubt Gerry was out working on the vegetable patch in her place, sweating profusely out in the morning heat like she would have been.

"How are ye gettin' on James?"

_JAMES!_

_JAMES!_

_WHAT!_

"All's well so far Mary. Thank you for the lemonade, it is most refreshing".

_JAMES!_

"Ach that's fine love, yer doin' me a real favour, it's the least I can do".

Any hope of a lazy morning in bed was shattered once the Englishman opened his mouth. Before she even realised it, Erin was on her feet, charging towards the window. The curtain almost came off its rail, it was opened with such ferocity, the clattering ringing in her ears. Not that she cared about the noise though, when her eyes were set upon him.

James wasn't wearing a shirt…

_JAMES WASN'T WEARING A SHIRT!_

_HOLY SHIT!_

With her brain in a different world, her legs suddenly failed her, stumbling backwards and falling back onto her bed. If either of her parents or her sister walked in at that moment, her feelings for James would have been outed on the spot. Just seeing him without a shirt was enough to fell her like an old oak tree that had been set about by a seasoned lumberjack. Her head was immediately bombarded with images of his shirtless chest, the muscular frame that he hid so well, suddenly on show for all and sundry. His shoulders were incomprehensibly broad, gleaming in the sunlight in the same manner which the muscles of his stomach were when she cast her eyes towards that part of his body.

_CHRIST!_

For a second time, she'd not realised that she'd moved, this time hastily throwing on her clothes, rushing off to the mirror to put some makeup on to look presentable. _She needed to look her best for James…_

Two or three minutes later, Erin bounded down the stairs in a manner reminiscent of Napoleon, though without the tail, ignoring the confused stare that Anna shot her way. Her little sister was years away from understanding what the body of a shirtless James could do to a young woman. Mary and Gerry were both in the kitchen, and it was her father's brow raising that she noted first. Whilst his daughter put on her shoes, Gerry decided to find out what the urgency was for her sudden need to be downstairs with them.

"Morning love. I wasn't expectin' ye up yet…".

"It's a nice day isn't it?" She replied, back turned to him. "Ye never said James was coming over".

The snarky nature of her comment brought a smile to her father's face, Gerry sharing a look with his wife that confirmed what they were both thinking.

"Well, yer mother didn't want to overwork me, and James was keen… wasn't he love?"

"Aye that's right Gerry. Must be an English thing".

"You could have said something Mammy… I could have helped!" Erin protested, turning back to meet the eyes of her parents.

"I said ye could have a morning off Erin. Don't ye want to rest?"

"Well… I... I…". She stammered, teetering on the edge of spilling the truth. "… I can't rest… ye know… knowin' he's havin' to do my job".

Unwilling to give the wily old foxes that were her parents, any further chance to deduce her own keenness, she exited via the back door. Running up the garden, _actually running up it_ , she called out to him, watching as his head raised up from where it had been focused on a patch on the ground.

"James!"

"Erin! My apologies, I was told you were sleeping". He smiled at the sight of her.

Her feet weren't stopping and before she knew it, she'd practically dived on James, forgetting that she was in the back garden, being watched by her parents and any of the neighbours who had little else to do. He caught her easily, giggling at her salmon-esque dive.

"What have I done to deserve this honour?" He asked, gingerly placing his hands on her back.

"Nothin!" She responded sharply, pulling herself off of him. "Nothing at all, just happy to see ye".

Her voice contained disappointment, but not from him questioning why she'd hugged him, instead pertaining from no longer being able to feel the bare skin of his back on her palms. It was so soft yet so well-toned, a beautiful texture that warmed every inch of her, initiating a rush of thoughts that were most unbecoming for a young lady.

"He doesn't realise, does he?"

Gerry asked the question of his wife, surveying the scene of their daughter's cannonballed jump into the English fella.

"She's our daughter… he'll work it out soon enough…".

* * *

"Erin…".

"Erin…".

She was caught daydreaming about James' exposed top half in the golden sunshine, cheeks turning to a blinding pink colour.

"Wh… Yeah… I erm… well James was helping me with the… with the vegetable patch".

"James? What the… what was he doin' at yer's again?" An angered Michelle enquired.

"Mammy thinks he's useful".

"Useful? Christ, I thought Mary was a good judge of character like, but if she thinks James is useful… then fucking hell have I got yer ma wrong!"

Resisting the urge to slap Michelle for being rude about him, Erin started work upon on her machine again after shaking her head. Her decision to continue working, despite only having about an hour's worth of machining to do, appeared to spear them on all. It was a good job too.

One more comment against James and a very different Erin Quinn would have faced her friend.

* * *

James' day wasn't going very well.

At all.

The moment he'd got in that morning, just about everything seemed to go wrong. He knocked his tea all over one of the ledgers to start with, only a bit of quick thinking on his part keeping them from being completely ruined. Then an irate elderly gentleman kept him preoccupied for over an hour, convinced that the bank had an agenda against him, ripping him off with interest rates. To make matters worse, the moment he'd finished sorting out the man's complaints, he was called into a meeting with the bank manager. Mr Feeney wanted him to go out to see Professor Joyce at the mansion that afternoon to discuss a query that the Professor had. Which would mean another afternoon of trying to fend off the categorically unwanted advances of his daughter.

"Oi English, chin up!"

One of the McLaughlin's brothers, Ian, shouted over to him as James attempted to enjoy a moment's tranquillity after the busy morning.

"I'll try". He called over in response.

Just then, Ian's brother Tommy returned indoors, having collected their post. There was a large sack of it that lunchtime, with the brothers setting to work sorting the post out whilst the bank was quiet. It was empty in fact, bar a gentleman who was in with Mr Feeney himself. As it was his lunchtime, James got up from his seat behind the counter to return to his office where his sandwiches awaited him.

"James, there's a letter here for ye". Tommy said to him as he walked by.

"For me?"

A letter being directly addressed to him was a new experience. Most the letters that they received were either addressed to the Ulster Bank or to Mr Feeney; it was a surprise to find one for him.

"Yer name's James Maguire isn't it, ye boneheaded Englishman".

"Alright easy Tommy, ye don't want Feeney hearin' that".

"Aye that's true".

The letter was handed to him, revealing some writing that indicated that it had already travelled some distance to get to him. An abbreviation on the back of the letter suggested that the letter originated from Switzerland, which unravelled its odd arrival.

Mum.

Upon realising, he retreated to the sanctuary of the office. Lunch would have to wait, even though his stomach yearned for it, his head blocking out every thought other than the thought of her. He'd been patient in waiting so long for the letter to come and it hadn't been an easy wait by any means. There were some nights he would wake up worrying about her. Not knowing that she was safe frightened him to an extent that it had never done before. He was used to her spending time out of the house in London, sometimes for over a week, but Kathy being in a different country altogether had proven to be an exceptionally difficult emotional situation for him to manage.

With a deep breath, he opened the letter…

_To my big handsome boy James,_

_I cannot comprehend how sorry that I am for leaving you this long without even a short note to confirm my safety. It has not been easy to find the time to write to you since I have moved here, but I have finally found my moment._

_I suppose I should explain where here is first._

_I am working for a very wealthy Swiss nobleman at his estate on the outskirts of Martigny, in Switzerland. I cannot go into the details of my work, but you can be assured that I am enjoying it just as I enjoyed my work in London. The fresh air in the countryside is a far cry from the dirty conditions of the city. My lungs feel far more free with this change of air. The people are all very friendly and have been ever so kind to me as I've settled down._

_There are drawbacks to living here too though. There is little to do outside of working or walking in the fields on the estate. Despite the friendliness of the people, I find I have little in common with any of them, which has made making solid friendships particularly difficult. I am also told that the snow can be quite unpleasant in the depths of winter. Alas, winter is months away, so I shall enjoy the summer sun whilst it lasts!_

_You are always on my mind. I long for the day that we can spend time with each other once more, though I confess to not knowing when that day will be. I hope that life is not too difficult in Derry, and I trust you are helping your Aunt Deirdre with anything she wishes. Perhaps you have made some friends too?_

_I would love to hear all about it from you, but regret I cannot divulge the address of the estate, for the Lord does not wish for me to receive letters. However, I shall endeavour to write to you when I next come upon a chance to do so._

_I miss you terribly._

_With loving regards_

_Your mother Kathy._

Breathing out, James couldn't stop the few tears that crept out from the corners of his eyes. He hadn't quite realised that the depths of missing his mother would be as vast as they were, stabbing during every beat of his heart. She was safe at least, even if her new job appeared to carry stipulations that seemed bizarre to him.

Without knocking, Tommy opened the door, oddly not in the usual manner of barging in rudely that James was accustomed to from him. There was a gentler air about him this time.

"Are ye alright James?" He asked softly.

"Y-Y…". James sniffled. "Yes. Just… it was just a letter from my mother, that's all".

"Is she well?"

His colleague adjusted his feet awkwardly as he spoke. The brothers were both aware of the circumstances of Kathy's departure to the continent and knew better than James did when it came to how much it would affect him. They'd lost their mother years earlier, after she'd been declared insane and sent to an asylum, where she passed after only a few months. Being away from her almost killed the two of them up until her eventual demise.

"Alive and safe. That is all I can ask for".

"Aye. Ye know if ye ever want to talk about it… me and Ian, well… we might tease ye but yer not too bad for an Englishman, so just ask like".

James could at least laugh the tears away at Tommy's kindness. He would accept the description as one of the most favourable comments he'd received in his life. Earning the respect of his close colleagues was another triumph to add to his list, a list that still had space for Michelle's name to be added to it.

"There's a slice of cake for ye if ye want it?" Tommy informed him.

"Thanks Tommy". He smiled sincerely, placing the letter down on his desk.

"Come on".

The two walked out of his office a couple of seconds later laughing and joking as if they'd been friends for years. The slice of cake went down well ahead of his drive out to the Joyce mansion, where he spent a couple of hours discussing the Professor's accounts. His prior stress over Jenny's continued advances on him turned out to be unwarranted, finding her to be out in the fields with her mother, only talking to her just as he was leaving.

His destination was his Aunt's house, like it normally was. Though this time he was armed with the letter, in a pressing need to talk to his Aunt.

Because he really was worried about his mother.

* * *

Sat in her living room, Deirdre digested the letter her sister had penned to James. Like the Englishman, she too had her concerns over the lack of correspondence from Kathy, and in the exact same fashion, her thoughts after reading it did little to change those concerns. Kathy might well have been alive, safely living with a job to support her, but the setup of the role screamed odd and quite unsettling.

_She could send letters…_

_But couldn't receive them…_

_People were friendly…_

_Yet she struggled to make any true friends…_

_She was settled…_

_Though without much to do…_

It was mightily strange to say the least.

"I'm worried for her Aunt Deirdre". James admitted. "I… I don't like this… 'wealthy Lord'… with his fancy country estate".

"Too right James. Yer ma has never been afraid to be different but this… even for her this is too much".

She handed the letter to Martin, who scanned down it himself. James watched his uncle's brows furrow a few times whilst he read through it. A man never too shy to share his opinions on certain matters, Martin soon made his thoughts perfectly clear.

"What a load of shite!". He grumbled.

"Martin!" Deirdre reprimanded him for his language.

"What? Come on love, ye don't seriously believe any of that do ye?"

It was the reaction that the Englishman was expecting. Deep down, he'd contemplated whether it was all a total fabrication and if it was his mother who'd even written it at all. It did look like her handwriting, but it was hardly a distinctive style, leaving him unconvinced that it truly did belong to Kathy.

Then again if it wasn't her… _who wrote the letter?_

He shuddered at the thought, shaking it out of his head, deeming it preposterous. Of course she'd wrote it… of course she had.

"I can't see who else would have, can you?" Deirdre quizzed her husband.

"Well…". Martin stopped, seemingly considering his answer for a few seconds. "… no, yer probably right love. Sorry James, I didn't mean to upset ye".

"An apology is unnecessary Martin. I have thought the same myself. I just wish I could write back to her instead of this… eternal wait for her to put pen to paper again".

Seeing his distress, Deirdre wrapped him into a hug. Martin joined them too in a rare display of affection and for a moment, James was at peace. He at least could count on their support. Michelle's shift not ending until eight o'clock was his saving grace, as in his mind, she would no doubt have gone off on a rant about the conduct of the Aunt she barely knew.

"Do you think she will come back?"

James' voice wavered asking the question to them both. He didn't want to think of a life where he never saw her again, but it wasn't out of the question at all.

"She will love. She's got you to come back for". Deirdre smiled, stroking his arm.

"Yes. Yes she does".

The words fell from his lips, but he didn't know if he believed them himself. The major female figure in his life and, in reality, the only major figure in his life, Kathy's love and care for him had made his time on Earth exceptional. To not have her there to see him succeeding in the rest of his life, to not have her there on his wedding day or the day a grandchild would be born… was harrowing.

She might have been in Martigny in person, but she would always be with him in his heart.

A heart that threatened to break.

He couldn't confide that in his Aunt. He loved her dearly, but she was not the right person to share such turmoil with. Martin wouldn't be the right person either. The person that James required was someone that he felt comfortable confiding in, who would just listen to him and not jump to any harsh judgements. That person had always been his mother in the past, but in Derry, he'd always assumed that role would never be fulfilled and he would have to do without.

But he had someone. There was one person he could talk to… _wanted_ to talk to.

Erin Quinn.

* * *

It was Friday lunchtime.

Erin's favourite part of the week.

She'd become progressively quicker on the walk from the factory to the bank. Or what she insisted was a fast walk.

To the naked eye it was a run. Running to the bank to be able to squeeze out an extra few seconds with James. If she could cut the journey time down from five minutes to nearer four, then it was nearly a whole additional minute with him. _Cracker!_

Yet she knew immediately on getting to the bank that Friday, that something was different. Michelle had mentioned the letter from Kathy in conversation at work earlier in the week. On the day she had brought it up, Erin thought of how happy he must have been in hearing from his mother after a couple of months separated from her. But Michelle neglected to share all of the details. Something Erin was about to find out.

James' usually knee-weakening smile had given way to a more… haunted look. There were bags under his eyes that told her of the trouble he'd had sleeping that week, a truth he hadn't told anyone of. He did still try to force a smile upon seeing her, but it was strained to say the least.

"James… what's the matter?"

Not standing on ceremony, she made her enquiry into his wellbeing straight from the off. He sighed in return, another pained look flashing across his face.

"Can… can we talk outside?"

"Aye we can… but ye best sort this out first".

She handed the money over to him with a laugh, forcing a slight chuckle out of him. A chuckle was a start, and she was instantly happier on seeing his own joy, even if only for a fleeting second.

It took him a couple of minutes to sort out the money that was being paid in and when he'd finished, they headed straight for his car. No words passed between them, but she didn't force the conversation either, wanting him to tell her of his destress on his terms not hers. He opened the door for her, gentlemanly as ever despite his melancholic appearance, quickly sitting beside her in the drivers seat, but without starting the engine. Erin didn't know what a vulnerable James looked like, but if she had to guess, this would have been it.

"I…".

He could have punched himself in the face if he were not in the presence of Erin. His words simply would not form, trapped in the swirling winds of his throat.

"I… had a letter… from my mother".

"I know". She replied honestly.

"Michelle told you?"

"She did. She said you'd talked to her Ma about it but nothing else".

There was a pause for a few seconds. Once again, the usually able communicator became unstuck, unsure of how to broach the subject that was so dear to him. A look into Erin's warm irises fixed the issue. Her words were not required, for her eyes told him that she would listen to him all day long if that was what was to be needed. Mustering up some courage, he started to speak again.

"I… would you like to read it?"

Erin nodded, James retrieving the letter from inside the pocket of his suit jacket. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Erin reading through the letter whilst James watched her expressions with a keen interest. She was just as, if not more, expressive than his Uncle Martin, but he found it far harder to place her expressions when it came to emotions. With Martin, it was quite simple, he gave his view on everything as he saw it. Erin was not like that. Emotionally unpredictable, a lesson David had drummed into him since the early days of his arrival, she could hide her true thoughts quite easily until pressed for them. Or alternatively, she could just spew the thoughts as they arrived in her head. Luckily for him, it was the first Erin that was sat with him in the car.

"What do you think?" He asked her once he'd noticed she'd finished.

"Well… I think ye have a Ma who loves ye…". She chirped. "… but her job seems a little…".

"Peculiar?" He interrupted.

"Yes. She hasn't really said much about this job has she? But ye did say ye've never been sure of what she does… I suppose this is no different".

"No I… I suppose you are right. I'm worrying unnecessarily aren't I?"

"Ye have every right to be worried James… I would be if it were my Ma too".

Putting her usually rampant thoughts to one side, Erin put her hand over his where they'd remained clasped together. Their friendship came first that lunchtime. James needed a friend to talk to, not a lover to kiss, and she was honoured to be the friend that he turned to in his hour of need. He met her eye for a moment, before the unexpected happened.

James burst out crying.

Instinctively she wrapped herself around him, allowing him to sob into her shoulder. The strain of his thoughts had finally cracked him. He remained with his head buried into her shoulder for a good five minutes, with the odd tear falling from Erin's eyes as she held him. Seeing him so deflated heightened her emotions, the damp feeling of his tears met the skin of her neck causing her own heart to break on his behalf. She'd dreamt many a time of finding herself in his arms, but not in the way she held him in the car as he cried. It was gutting.

"Sorry… look at me…". He quipped, pulling out of her embrace.

"Don't apologise James. Sometimes a good cry is what ye need. Nothin' to be embarrassed about". Erin softly explained to the sniffling Englishman.

"I should not, I…".

"James!" She was sterner with him. "Stop it. Even a _gentleman_ is allowed to cry".

An underlying mockery, of the jesting kind, accompanied her words, which brought back the smile to his face. The James that Erin, and everyone else preferred to see, was restored, the bumbling mess of an Englishman from moments before vanishing into thin air.

"Once again I find myself in your debt". He grinned, returning to a calmer tone.

"Ye owe me nothin'". She replied. "I'd say I owe you for the dance actually".

Beaming back to her, the Englishman was confused at why she believed she would owe him for the dance. It had been a privilege for him to be able to take her to the event, to dance with her whilst Michelle and Clare created woolly hell in the school field. It was one of the best nights of his life.

"You do not. But perhaps we could come to an arrangement…".

"An arrangement? What tricks are ye playin' on me, Mister Banker?" She swatted his arm, giggling.

"I would not dare play a trick on a friend so dear to me". He placed his hands over his heart with an equally jokey tone. "It is a question actually".

"Do ask me Lord Maguire…".

Before speaking, he took her hand in his, sending her heart back into an infernal rhythm that had been lacking during their lunch break rendezvous.

"Would the beautiful Countess Quinn be my companion for the post wedding dance next week?"

Erin's cheeks were ablaze at his request, one which she'd hoped for. The dancing after the wedding would be another chance to be in such close proximity to him, jiving into the night after witnessing Orla and David's big day. And hopefully a kiss. _The ultimate dream…_

"She would have been offended not to be".

"I do believe I am the luckiest young gentleman in all of Europe".

Placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles, it was becoming increasingly harder for her not to break down her self-imposed barriers and snog the face off of him. Mary would no doubt admonish her for such a public display of affection, but Erin wouldn't have to worry about it. Holding her true feelings down with every last drop of effort, she smiled back at him and suggested that they go inside to eat their lunches, a suggestion accepted wholeheartedly by James.

Walking back to the factory with an additional spring in her typically confident step, Erin felt proud of herself in acting as such a good friend to James. An already prosperous friendship that she dared could be more.

But that was for another day.

* * *

_Meanwhile, In Berlin…_

The skies threw unending droplets over the beautiful streets of Berlin, where men and women returned to their families after long days at work. Cars trundled through the streets that the children would usually play on, watched vigilantly by their loving parents, but they were not out on a wet evening such as the one the city was experiencing. The city that was a paradise for those that were championed by the state that they worked themselves into the ground for. A hell for those who were considered enemies.

Those very streets were the same ones that brought Lyla Walsh into his life. The longest true relationship he'd had with a woman in years, Doctor Van Der Heijden thanked God for her presence. Ever since he'd first laid eyes upon her from his window, he did not doubt that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Once Lieutenant Hartmann had tracked her down, she also proved to have a better personality than any of the women he'd been with previously. A delightful laugh to accompany her radiant smile, they first spoke in English when he'd introduced himself, but after a few weeks, were conversing in German. A friendship had developed between the two, which had resulted in a few kisses along the way, something which he was pleased about.

Inviting her for dinner at his offices that evening was his intention of taking the friendship to the next stage, his bed ready for them in the adjoining room. Lieutenant Hartmann had worked for hours to be able to set the scene for his friend and father figure, preparing everything from the seating to the lighting. He'd been dispatched to escort the ravishing Lyla from her home, allowing the Doctor some time to himself. Finding an old photo on the mantelpiece rekindled memories of his days spent in London years before, where he'd lived for a couple of years whilst studying. The picture was of his class on a summer's day, all thirteen young men on the cusp of a prosperous future. A note underneath reminded him of those he'd studied with when he read their names.

_Bentley, Harris, Wood, Van Der Heijden, Leroux, Davies, Stephenson, Molinari, Christofferson, Smith, Joyce, Etxeberria, Thompson._

He'd not seen any of them in years, though was aware of the achievements of many. Unlike his scientific peers in the Fatherland, those he'd studied with in England were supportive and among the best men he'd ever met. Men of science but of sensibility too.

Van Der Heijden's reminiscing came to an abrupt end, the door being knocked. Knowing it would be the returning Hartmann with Lyla in his care, he beckoned them in. Lyla was the beacon of perfection that night, a loosely fitting dress covering her slender figure, a face maintained expertly with the finest makeup. He placed kisses to both her cheeks when they came together, as Hartmann moved around them to head to the kitchen.

"Es freut mich, dich zu sehen." She spoke first.  
("It is good to see you")

"Gleichfalls, meine liebe Lyla."  
("It is good to see you too, my dear Lyla".)

He showed her to the table in front of the fire in his office, holding a chair out for her to sit on. Her eyes remained locked with his at all times, neither seemingly able to stop the gazing stares that lingered between them. Fine cutlery adorned the two places that had been set, along with glasses and a bottle of wine that he'd imported in from France for special occasions such as the one that night. Uncorking the bottle, Kurt poured glasses for them both before taking his seat opposite her. Conversation continued on how she'd been keeping that week, without each other since the two had met for lunch that Monday, his only free time during a hectic week of research and experimentation.

Hartmann returned a few minutes later with their meal for the evening, which he presented in the fashion of a waiter rather than of a soldier. Another one of Kurt's lessons paying off.

"Du has uns ein schönes Essen vorbereitet, Kurt. Fisch?"  
("You have prepared a beautiful meal for us Kurt. Fish?")

"Forelle. Leutnant Hartmann ist ein ausgezeichneter Fischer. Er hat die selber gefangen."  
("Trout. Lieutenant Hartmann is an excellent fisherman, he caught it himself".)

"Danke dir, Herr Leutnant."  
("Thank you Lieutenant".)

"Gern geschehen, Frau Walsh."  
("It is my pleasure, Miss Walsh")

Lieutenant Hartmann retreated to the kitchen to eat his own meal, leaving the Doctor and Lyla to enjoy theirs. She looked heavenly to him, even with a mouthful of a trout churning away, her cheekbones showing strength and divinity. He hadn't met any Irish women in his years, but if they were all as pretty as she was, then he would strongly consider moving to the Emerald Isle. Laughter was a given during their conversations, with Lyla inciting most of it through her many jokes and japes. She ranted of her difficulties in adjusting to the life of a single lady in Berlin, complaining about the many men who would set eyes on her, to find their affection was unwanted. Her anger at them both amused and satisfied Kurt. On one hand he found her annoyance with other men to be humour of the highest order and on the other, he was pleased not to be considered one of those men. He liked that… _he liked that a lot._

After half an hour or so, Hartmann returned to the room to remove their empty plates from the table. The offer of dessert was waved away, with the pair of them both full after the delicious meal that the Lieutenant of seemingly multifarious talents had cooked so expertly for them.

"Wie war dein Essen, Frau Walsh?" The young man enquired with her.  
("How was your meal, Miss Walsh?")

"Wunderbar, danke dir, Herr Leutnant. Du bist genauso gut als Koch wie als Fischer."  
("Amazing thank you Lieutenant. You are as good a cook as you are a fisherman".)

"Du schmeichelst mich."  
("You flatter me".)

The young Lieutenant enjoyed the praise that was lavished upon him by the Irish woman. Not often seeing too much of the women that Kurt would hold relations with, he held an instant respect for Lyla, who in turn respected him. He admired her vigorous approach to the new start she'd had in Berlin, a life they had talked about on their short trip between her home and the Doctor's offices. Topping up their drinks, Hartmann stood to attention upon completing the action, awaiting any further instructions from his mentor.

"Schönen Abend noch, Hans. Ich glaube, ich kann mich um den Rest kümmern."  
("Go and enjoy your evening Hans, I think I can handle the rest".)

"Danke, mein Herr. Schönen Abend noch wünsche ich dir und Frau Walsh."  
("Thank you Sir. Good evening to you and to you Miss Walsh")

Gathering his belongings, Hartmann vacated the offices a couple of minutes later with a final goodbye for the night. The young man would no doubt be off to read one of his many books, a pastime encouraged by Kurt for the purposes of knowledge. Even books that their leaders would consider to be criminal, for they were the ones that were often worth reading in the Doctor's eyes.

Kurt and Lyla remained at the table whilst the trout dinner settled in their stomachs, sipping away at the exquisite wine. He only rose to stoke the fire that the young Officer started in the background as they were tucking into their meal. Despite the warmth of the summer's day, Kurt knew all too well how cold his office could get in the evenings and Hartmann was aware of it too, guiding him to start it without the need to ask.

"Erzähl mir mal über deine Familie, Lyla. Warst du schon mal verheiratet...hast du Kinder?"  
("Tell me about your family, Lyla. Have you been married… do you have children?")

She did not give an answer immediately. Looking away from him and to the side, her emotion did not pass unchecked. Almost as soon as her head was away from him, a handkerchief was in his hand ready for her. Accepting it, she dried her eyes tentatively. He waited for her to be ready with her story, unwilling to probe a subject that clearly upset the beautiful woman rather dearly.

"Mein Mann ist vor sieben Jahren plötzlich gestorben. Er hat mir einen Sohn hinterlassen aber...er ist auch kurz danach gestorben."  
("My husband died suddenly seven years ago. He left me with a son, but… he died as well shortly after".)

"Es tut mir leid."  
("I am sorry".)

"Bitte entschuldige dich nicht, Kurt. So ist das Leben halt manchmal."  
("Do not apologise Kurt. That is the way of life sometimes")

"Wie hießen dein Mann und dein Sohn?"  
("What were their names?")

"Mein Mann, Robert, mein Sohn, John."  
("My husband was Robert and my son John")

"Ich bin sicher, dass die beiden stolz auf dich wären. Du bist eine mutige Frau, Irland zu verlassen um ein neues Leben hier in Berlin zu suchen."  
("I am certain that they would be proud of you. You are a brave woman, leaving Ireland to seek a new life here in Berlin".)

There was another pause as she began to cry again, the handkerchief soon back in her grasp to ensure that the tears wouldn't remain at the corners of her eyes for too long. The memory of the life she'd left stung back at her bluntly in the freedom of open discussion.

"Danke dir, Kurt. Ich weiss ja, dass sie stolz auf mich wären."  
("Thank you, Kurt. I know they would be proud of me… I just wish they were here with me".)

An exchange of merrier smiles occurred between the two, with Lyla finishing her second glass of wine during a brief lull in the conversation. The lull came about because of Kurt's willingness to simply stare at her breath-taking beauty and how it invaded his conscience. She was different to the long list of other women he'd loved and cared for during his time. There was a tenderness to Lyla that those women did not possess, their value being judged in their sexual capabilities more often than not, rather than their personalities, which were mostly bland away. Lyla Walsh was a league apart.

"Und du, Kurt? Hast du eine Familie?"  
("What about you Kurt? Do you have family?")

The torch of uncomfortable feelings of a previous life, passed over to Doctor Van Der Heijden. He never usually spoke of his family and few ever thought to ask. Hartmann knew the ins and outs being the only other person ever to do so, but from that day forward, he knew not to talk to Kurt about family. But in Lyla, he found a soul that was easy to talk to and eager to listen.

"Ich habe einen Bruder in den Niederlanden. Er hat seine eigene Familie aber ich habe schon mehreren Jaren nicht mit ihm gesprochen. Sonst habe ich nur Herrn Hartmann."  
("I have a brother in the Netherlands. He has a family of his own, but I have not spoken to him for some years now. Other than that, I just have Hartmann".)

"Du bist mit ihm eng befreundet?". She enquired over the relationship between him and the Lieutenant.  
("You are close with him?")

"Hans...er ist mir...ein Freund...ein Bruder..und ein Sohn. Es sind viele jünge Männer die Rat, Steuerung brauchen und er ist zu mir zu einem Zeitpunkt gekommen, als ihm noch nicht klar war, dass er diese Sachen gebraucht hat. Aber jetzt befindet er sich auf dem richtigen Weg.  
("Hans… He is… a friend… a brother… and a son to me. There are many young men who need guidance, and he came to me at a time when he did not realise that he needed it. But now he is on the right path".)

"Welcher Weg wäre das denn?"  
("What path would that be?")

"Na ja, meine liebe Lyla, das wäre der Weg, dem alle guten deutschen Männer folgen sollten."  
("Well my dear Lyla, that would be the path that all good German men should walk along".)

Easy laughter distilled the precariously tense air that the topic of Kurt's family had created in the room. One of the things he enjoyed the most about Lyla was her wish to understand him not as a medical professional or as a lover, but as a real man. She'd dug far further under the surface than any other woman had in the couple of months that they'd known each other, whilst always keeping her questions utterly respectful.

"Du bist so dichterisch, Kurt. Obwohl ich überrascht bin, dass der Führer einen Holländer so hoch schätzt..."  
("You are so poetic Kurt. Although, I am surprised that the Führer thinks so highly of a Dutchman…".)

"Der Führer hat guten Meschenverstand, oder? Wir teilen mehrere Vorstellungen davon, wie wir die Welt sehen möchten. Es ist meine Ehre, mit ihm die umzusetzen."  
("The Führer has good taste, no? We share many ideals for how we wish to see the world. It is my honour to achieve them with him".)

"Vorstellungen?"  
("Ideals?")

"Erzählungen für einen anderen Tag, meine liebe Frau...Na, möchtest du noch ein Glas Wein?"  
("Stories for another time my dear… now, would you like another glass of wine?")

"Ja gerne. Danke dir."  
("Yes. Thank you")

Lyla removed herself from her chair at the table, meandering her way to the closed window, the very window Kurt had first spotted her through. He watched her from the kitchen, studying her relaxed form that scanned the Berlin night with interest. With Hartmann dismissed and Kurt beginning to feel cosy, he began to make himself ready for his move on her. Clearly enjoying his company that evening, he held few doubts that he would be rebuffed by her and that they would have sex that night, just as he wished.

Walking back over to her with a fresh glass of fine wine in each hand, he was ready for the first step of his plan to get her into his bed.

"Der Regen hat noch nicht aufgehört. Es wäre eine solche Schade, dieses Kleid nass werden zu lassen."  
("The rain has not stopped. It would be such a shame for this dress to get wet".)

The enticing manner in how she spoke to him altered the plans, with Lyla confirming how she wished to spend the rest of the evening in as many words.

"Es gibt des Flurs entlang ein Gästezimmer?" He teased.  
("There is a spare room along the hall for guests?")

Taking the glasses out of his grasp, Lyla placed them on the windowsill next to her. Kurt joyfully played along, stood motionless, allowing her to dictate their next move. He would not rush anything with her, intending to savour every moment.

Her hands were on his shoulders, and she leant in, bringing the tips of their noses together.

"Das...wird nicht notwendig sein."  
("That… will not be necessary".)

The next few seconds with her were a blur to him when he replayed them upon waking the following morning, but he remembered they were kissing passionately after the breathy words rang in his ears. Soon they were moving back towards his bedroom, where her hands began to roam beneath his shirt, while his hands gradually began to make a passage under the fabric of her dress. There was no looking back from there and as the first light of the new day peered in through the closed curtains of his bedroom, Kurt pulled her nude body closer to him and settled back to sleep again.

His research was productive.

His friendship with the Führer never better.

And now a perfect love life too.

Everything was looking rosy for Doctor Kurt Van Der Heijden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive shout to Sitcom_Fan for the translations again :)


	9. Matrimony

**Chapter 9: Matrimony 22** **nd** **June 1939**

Two days.

Two days until Orla and David were to be married.

The excitement around their family and friends was palpable. In the Mallon household, Michelle was buzzing for the occasion, giving her a chance to wear what she considered to be her best dress. Having been watched so closely since the disastrous events of the dance at the school weeks before, it would also offer her a rare chance to enjoy herself without too many significant obstacles preventing her enjoyment.

"I can't remember the last wedding I went to…". Martin commented to Deirdre as they sat in their living room.

"I know, it's been some time". She replied.

"I still remember our wedding day". The memory brought a smile to his face. "You were so pretty in yer dress and my Ma was crying…".

"Those tears!" Deirdre laughed.

Their conversation about yesteryear was interrupted when Michelle bundled down the stairs, dress in hand.

"Alright love". Deirdre addressed her.

"Aye, I'm buzzin' like. I'm not sure about me dress though…".

"It's just a dress Michelle, and it looks fine". Martin huffed.

"Now now Martin…". Deirdre reprimanded him. "It's important for our Michelle to look her best. An honest young man might take a liking to her".

Michelle didn't like the honest young men in the city; they were all no fun. Proven by her dalliance with Johnny Kells, though most would claim he was more idiot than rebel, she preferred the boys who lived a bit more wildly. Finding a husband at Orla's wedding wasn't on her priority list whatsoever.

"I think it'll be just fine love". Deirdre told her.

"I hope so… I hope so".

"Don't fret, it's yer father and his clothes that ye should be worried about. Have ye polished those shoes yet, Martin?"

He rolled his eyes, clearly not having done so. The whole fuss Deirdre was making about his presentation was unwarranted, with Martin knowing full well how to make himself look smart for the big day. However, the sudden realisation of a brilliant opportunity came about. Michelle's debt after both being caught with Johnny and the dance incident, was still to be fully paid off. She could polish the shoes for him…

"I think Michelle's got a wee job she can do before bed then".

"What!?" She shouted at her father.

"Aye ye heard me, ye can polish my shoes for the wedding. Yer in our debt remember…".

Before Michelle could utter words that would only increase the sum, there was a knock on the front door. Deirdre got up to answer, leaving father and daughter to argue the case of the shoe polishing between themselves.

"Why should I polish yer shoes?"

"Because I asked ye to Michelle… or because if ye want to sleep in this house tonight, ye need to remember to respect me".

"Respect ye!? I do respect ye Da! I…". She stopped upon noticing the guest in the room. "… oh for fuck's sake!"

"MICHELLE! LANGUAGE!" Her mother chastised her.

"Good evening to you too Michelle".

James. James who'd already been at the house that night, a couple of hours before she'd returned home. He never came back a second time after his regular evening visit in the week, which always meant she never had to see him. Welcome him, she would not.

"What are ye doin' here!?" She demanded to know.

"I have come to see if I could borrow you Martin". He turned to address his Uncle. "There is some business I need to take care of this evening and some help would be appreciated".

"Business? It's nearly nine o'clock James, I'm thinking about me bed not business".

"I do apologise for calling on you at such a late hour, but my need is pressing".

In the short space of time that he'd been in Derry, James had done a lot for his Aunt and Uncle… Martin couldn't really say no to him. He trusted the Englishman too, knowing that whatever the business might be, his involvement must have been of the upmost importance to its success.

Sighing, the older man rose from his chair.

"Give me a couple of minutes son".

Martin left the living room to get ready for their trip out, leaving James to talk to his Aunt Deirdre and defend himself from Michelle. Luck was on his side though, and it was the former who spoke up first.

"What's that ye've got in the box there James?"

Deirdre enquired about the small box that had remained in his hands from the moment he'd gotten out of the Morgan. He removed the lid to reveal the contents to be a fine pair of what looked like unworn shoes, almost sparkling in their unused glory. But not sparkling enough for his standards, being the same pair of shoes he would be wearing to the wedding… the ones he would be wearing for his dancing with Erin.

"My shoes for the wedding. I was going to ask a favour of you Deirdre. Would you polish them for me? I want to look my best and…".

"No". She cut off his explanation coldly. "But I know someone who will".

The two both turned to look at Michelle, in her seated position on the carpet of the Mallon floor. She stared back at them with a look of frightening fury in her irises, one of a kind that a priest might believe the devil himself could make.

"You can f-".

* * *

David's last night of being free from the shackles of matrimony was not one that he'd expected on the day he'd proposed to Orla. That day may have only been a couple of months before, but a particularly significant factor had been added since then.

James.

At his friend's cottage, David could relax for the night without the stresses of his parents or brothers fussing round him to make sure everything was in order. With James, he knew everything would be done to perfection, due to the Englishman's sophisticated planning. Their suits were ready well in advance, enabling them to sit out in the back garden of James' country home to bask in the summer sun. It would be light well into the night that night for the two to be able to enjoy a stress-free evening with fresh air too.

"I hate being away from Orla for this long ye know". He admitted to James. "Even though I'm used to it, it never gets any easier".

James could only smile at his admission. The depths of David's love for her were already clear to him, but hearing his friend reiterate them was music to his ears.

"I suspect she will be thinking the same way". He chuckled to David.

"Aye. I bet Sarah's makin' a right show of things".

"That's mothers for you isn't it…".

James's voice trailed as mentioning mothers made him think of his own. Kathy loved a wedding, having taken James to a couple of her friends' weddings back in London. She would have been in her element at the church, crying at Orla and David's futures being sealed in the eyes of the Lord.

"You'll hear from her again soon mate". David told him.

"Yes… yes I will". James regained his composure slowly. "Enough about me anyway, it is you that we must discuss. Is Orla moving in with you?"

"The opposite actually, I'm moving in with her".

"You'll have plenty of support from Sarah and Joe I bet".

"I'll never escape Joe again". David snorted. "But aye, he's already offered to help with looking after our baby when he or she comes".

Face lit up, David's joy in speaking of his unborn child warmed the Englishman. The couple estimated that the baby would be born around the beginning of November, an agonisingly long wait for them given their excitement.

"Boy or Girl?" James asked the obvious question.

"I don't mind if I'm honest James. Either would be cracker".

"Does Orla mind?"

"Ach no, ye know my Orla. She doesn't let that stuff worry her ye know".

"Very true, very true. Have you discussed names yet?"

"Christ!" David complained jokingly. "Yer just as bad as Erin with all these questions. She was asking the same from Orla".

There was little surprise to James that Erin was asking the same questions as he was. Great minds would think alike, and she was in possession of a very capable brain in the same way that he was.

"If we have a wee girl then Orla wants to name her after her Grandma and if it's a boy, we were thinking of either Antony, Daniel or Brian".

"That's very sweet of Orla". James concluded. "I think Antony out of those three personally".

"Ha!" David almost shouted his highly amused reply. "That's exactly what Erin said as well".

"What can I say, we must have similar tastes".

"Aye… right".

David stared at James with what the Englishman believed to be a strange look. David's eyebrow was raised slightly, whilst he appeared to be struggling to contain a bout of laughter that was ready to fall from his lips. Whilst James might not have known what the look was for, to his friend, the nature of the almost mocking stare was quite obvious. He'd already teased the Englishman on the subject when they were at the tailors and had continued to do so throughout the following month. Armed with the unconfirmed but very much unquestionable knowledge of Erin's feelings for his friend, he remained in disbelief that the English fella was yet to notice them himself.

"What?" James finally asked. "You are teasing me with something again, are you not?"

"Aye… I might be". David giggled back.

"Not this mystery girl again, I hope? Well perhaps I may find her tomorrow evening in the midst of our night of revelry".

"Yer takin her are ye not?"

"Who, Erin? Yes, we agreed it last week. Why?"

The want to punch James square in the face to wake him up, fluttered just beneath the surface of David's exterior emotions. The drawn-out game of not informing him had run its cause and if the Englishman was too blind to see it, then he was going to have to tell him.

"Erin…".

"Erin?"

"Erin's yer 'mystery girl' ye great eejit!".

Instantaneous laughter was ripped from James' lungs. Erin, alongside David, was his best friend; she couldn't possibly hold feelings for him. It amused him to know that his male friend was reading the relationship between him and his female one completely incorrectly. _Or well, it just amused him…_

"She is my friend David. I think you are misunderstood".

"Oh my… can ye seriously not see it? Yer a smart man academically James but by Christ are ye thick emotionally".

"I am not!" He protested with a laugh. "Erin only sees me as a friend, as I see her. I'm starting to think you've been sneaking an extra glass of whisky whenever I turn my back after all of this!"

"Ye can think what ye want…". David grinned like a Cheshire cat. "… but I'm tellin' ye, Erin's got feelings for ye James. Anyway, what about you… do ye like her?"

"As a friend, of course I like her".

James' reply shot out like a lightning bolt to the question. David's wedding the next day was the only reason he was giving him a reprieve, as if it wasn't, he knew he would have started an argument with him. It was preposterous that David believed Erin held feelings beyond those of their friendship to him, completely and utterly preposterous. He'd never thought of Erin in such a way… _never…_

"Fine… fine…". David's tone dropped, indicating he would be backing off. "… probably about time for a nightcap don't ye think?"

"A wise idea I would say". James responded pleasantly.

The Englishman went inside with both of their glasses for the final refill of the evening. But in his head, it was not the thoughts of the alcoholic beverage that invaded the recesses and crevices of his mind, it was the other thoughts… the ones that made him oddly nervous.

It was the thought of love with Erin.

_Which was of course his first thought on the matter…_

* * *

An enchanting breeze occupied the city on the morning of the 24th June 1939, the day of the wedding of David Donnelly and Orla McCool. The church was relatively full for the event, with friends and family from all across the city in attendance to witness their joining in the eyes of the Lord. James found himself on a row with his Aunt and Uncle, along with Clare's parents Sean and Geraldine. Whilst his friendship with David was a strong one, displayed by David choosing to spend the night before his wedding alone with James at the cottage, the honour of standing with David as best man, fell to one of David's other friends. Not that there was any jealousy on the Englishman's part, fully understanding that a lengthier friendship held sway over the short but prosperous one that the two had formed in the couple of months following his arrival.

It wouldn't be too long until Orla arrived with her bridesmaids and Joe, who would be giving her away in the absence of her birth father.

"That suit… how much did ye pay in the end James?" Martin asked, looking up to the groom at the altar.

"The price was irrelevant…". James attempted to steer clear of the discussion.

"Ach come on son, there's no way that was cheap".

"If you must know, about thirty-eight pounds".

"THIRTY-EIGHT POUNDS!?" Martin nearly choked when he heard the figure. "How much money have ye got?"

"Please can we not make such a fuss over a small gesture…".

"Small g… that is not a small gesture James! By the power of the almighty himself, I am startin' to wonder whether yer the richest man in Britain! This suit… that thing from the oth-".

"Now come on Martin love, there's no need for ye to keep quizzin' him about money. I've told ye before about that and I'm not tellin ye again!"

Grateful for his Aunt's intervention, James dipped his head in thanks to Deirdre, who returned the gesture with a smile. Martin grumbled to himself about the scolding from his wife, a scolding which he knew he had coming, remembering the two or three prior times when he'd tried to find out where all the money James possessed actually came from. She didn't know what he knew from Thursday night however, sworn into secrecy by his nephew, and her tune would certainly change if she found out the details.

"How's yer Clare then Geraldine, I've not seen her for a couple of weeks". Deirdre asked Mrs Devlin.

"Ach she's grand Deirdre, I hope yer Michelle's keepin' well".

"She is but she'll be on a tight leash tonight I tell ye. I won't have her chasin' the boys again".

"We've got the opposite issue!" Sean piped up from beside his wife. "Half the time Clare doesn't even seem that bothered about finding someone".

"Sean!" Geraldine reprimanded him.

"What love, it's true! I tell you's, I'm keeping my eye out for her in case there are any good lads around tonight".

James, along with his Aunt and Uncle, all hummed awkwardly in agreement. He didn't know Sean Devlin particularly well, but the brief picture David had painted of him during one of their evenings at the pub seemed accurate. According to his friend, Sean was very much a staunch Catholic who wanted the best for his daughter. James too had noticed Clare's reluctance to even discuss anything remotely romantic whenever he'd been in her presence, though did not believe it constituted Sean's strict approach.

The doors to the church were opened and conversations about Clare were quickly forgotten. Everyone present at the place of worship, rose in respect to the bride appearing in the doorway. James glanced over to David's wonderstruck face when he lay his eyes upon the partner he'd missed so dearly. The bump where their child was growing was magnified by the perfect wedding dress clinging to her body. On his row, a smile on the Englishman's face from understanding how much the child meant to the couple.

The organ started to play out a tune as Orla, on the arm of her Granda Joe, began the long walk up the aisle. Behind her, he spotted the three main bridesmaids along with their special bridesmaid for the day in front of them; little Anna Quinn herself.

Michelle and Clare looked resplendent following on behind the younger Quinn daughter, beaming smiles plastered across their faces. But it was the older Quinn daughter that captured his eye.

Orla might have been the one getting married, but in James's head, Erin was the one stealing the show, a complete robbery from under her cousin's nose.

She looked…

Exquisite.

Across the crowded church their eyes met, and neither could help the small, giggled smile that they shared. Her cheeks were glowing when they did, undone just as easily as she usually was whenever he dared to look at her. On the journey up the aisle though, it was her sister who made the most out of being in the vicinity of him, James being stood on the inner end of the row that he was on.

"James!" Anna called out as she saw him.

She ran to him, prompting him to prepare his arms wide to receive her. The little girl would always want a hug from him whenever she saw him, another precious friendship that he'd come to cherish. He wrapped his arms around her, spotting the pleased faces on both Mary and Gerry as their youngest broke out of line to embrace him tightly.

"There, there… you'd best get back into line Anna". He whispered into her ear.

As he raised his head, a wide grin across his face, his eyes were drawn to Erin as she passed by, mouthing 'Thank you' to him for giving her sister the hug that she wanted. He nodded to her in acknowledgement, still marvelling over how stunning she looked in her blue dress.

The ceremony went by a blissful daze, with barely a dry eye in the church once the rings had been exchanged and the priest announced that it was time for the groom to kiss his bride. David kissed Orla tenderly up at the altar, to the rapturous applause of their loving audience, who were still drying their eyes. Sarah had practically fallen apart from the moment she'd walked into the church behind the bridesmaids. Napoleon the dog accompanied her, and even the Labrador could have been challenged on being choked up, his bark serenading the couple as they walked back down the aisle, happily married at last. James ended up receiving a duty for the day, when Anna returned to his side as they walked out behind the newlyweds. She wished to be carried out by her favourite fella, her 'best friend from England', a title she'd began to know him by.

There was a chance to mingle with the other guests outside once the ceremony was over, David and Orla keen to thank as many people as they could for attending the service. Anna never left his side, the little Quinn placing her little hand in his big one once he'd put her down, not having any intention of letting it go. He'd spoken with Mary and Gerry first, who secretly adored the way he caved into any attention that their youngest wanted, treating her almost as if he were her father. Every so often he'd scan the crowd and each time he found Erin scanning for him in return, gradually making her way to him over the course of a few minutes.

"Erin! Erin! Come here!" Anna begged of the sister she loved.

"Alright Anna, I'm comin'".

Failing to supress the laugh that bubbled over from within, Anna laughed with her, as did James. They were all being rather silly, not that any of them cared.

"Are you being nice to James?" Erin asked as she stopped in front of them.

"Yes! He's keeping my hand safe!"

"Aye I can see that".

Above her sister's head, Erin comically rolled her eyes in James's direction, making him snort out a chuckle in a completely ungentlemanly manner. The snort set the Quinn sister's off laughing and it was another minute before they'd all regained their composures in order to hold a conversation again. _Silly eejits, the three of them…_

"Why don't ye hold James' other hand Erin?"

Anna's suggestion was innocent but incredibly deadly. Erin's head monologued one story to her, but another part of her brain forced her to remember how easily he could make her knees invalid. Taking a grasp of his hand in public could ruin them… but she knew if she did not, the risk of upsetting Anna was high.

"He… he might not want me to". She tried to think of an excuse not to.

"He wouldn't object". The Englishman added on his own behalf.

"See Erin. Please?"

If she refused Anna, she'd never hear the end of it at home and would no doubt be in trouble with her parents for making her sister cry on Orla's wedding day. Taking the deepest breath of her life, Erin moved to stand on James's empty left-hand side and placed her slightly smaller hand into his. The thoughts in her head turned to the ones that she wouldn't be able to air, especially in the setting of a house of God.

However, none of the three had considered the thoughts of the one onlooker to the scene of James holding hands with both Quinn sisters. His cousin had noticed, and she was absolutely Jack the Ripping about it.

"I'll find out what yer up to… ye dirty English bastard".

* * *

Mingling was drawing to a close, with some of the guests having already left to return home to prepare for the dancing later that evening. Anna and Erin were called away from James after a couple of minutes, to start the walk back to their house alongside the happily married couple. The Englishman had another idea however, one which he put into action, leading the girls back to their family.

"Keepin' good care of both of my girls. Thank ye son". Gerry addressed him.

"Does a better job of it than you do". Joe commented against his son in-law.

She couldn't show it with literally all of her family members in front of her, but there was an incredible reluctance on Erin's part to let go of his hand. Anna had done so without question once her mother commanded it, but it took her an extra half second to convince her body that clinging to James would have to wait for another time. _Like at the dance…_

"David". James called out to his friend.

"James… ye alright?"

The Englishman did not respond verbally, but held up the keys to the Morgan instead. David knew what he was saying without having to ask. Could he accept it though? James had already purchased his suit for the wedding; offering his Morgan up as a wedding car was above and beyond.

"No…".

"Catch".

He caught the keys as they streaked over the heads of the Quinn's and McCool's, coming to a rest in his palms. Palms that trembled with improbable excitement, adding to the layer of excitement already created by marrying the love of his life.

"James, I can't…".

"Yes. Yes you can my friend. Drive your wife back home in style. I'll pick the car up later".

To James' surprise, David pushed through the crowd of his new family to embrace his friend. A friend who'd done so much for him during such a short acquaintance. Though surprised, James accepted the warm gesture from a friend who'd played an equally vital role in his life. David could have been unaccepting of a well-spoken, well-dressed young Englishman invading his small town, but had opted to welcome him with open arms, going against what many of his fellow countrymen would have done. A foundation for an everlasting, brotherly love for each other, cemented by nights talking about cars and women at The River.

"Thanks. I… I don't know what to say".

"Say nothing… but you are getting next week's first round at the pub… no excuses".

"I think I can handle that".

Guffawing at their agreement, they soon parted to allow David to lead Orla to the car. The rest of the family set off walking, Erin and Anna waving to James as he stood watching them all off safely. The Morgan roared into life at David's command of the ignition, giving the thumbs up to James before shooting off. He could trust David with the car, his friend being a mechanic by trade, holding no fears that he would find it damaged upon walking to their house to retrieve it.

"Oi, Dicko!"

Having shut himself off from the world to view their departure, James was blindsided by Michelle sidling up to his right side. He didn't quite jump out of his skin at her voice, but it signified that conversational language was about to take a drastic nosedive into its most common, vulgar form thanks to Michelle's mouth. A mouth that even the most effective soaps would have difficulty in riding of the filth that spewed from deep within.

"Michelle, may I say I don't think I have ever seen you looking so beautiful".

Unlike Erin, and because they were related, she couldn't be fooled by his predictability English flattery. Not that she didn't enjoy the compliment… although she always looked beautiful, so it meant nothing.

"Try that on someone who hasn't come up the Foyle in a bubble…". She shook her head. "… what the fuck's goin' on with you and Erin?"

"I beg your pardon?" He reared up.

"Ye heard me, ye limey bastard. I saw the two of you's holding hands… and ye were holding Anna's… enjoy that do you, holding little girl's hands?"

"Is that the sound of jealousy I hear Michelle?" He skilfully defended his reputation. "Does Anna not ask for your hand to hold?"

It was jealousy when it came to Anna.

Michelle adored Erin's little sister, but the feeling didn't always come across as mutual. Learning through Erin that Anna's new favourite thing in the world was her dickhead, ballbag English cousin, only enflamed those feelings. _She wouldn't be revealing that though…_

"No! But what about Erin? You two are always up to somethin' together!"

"Am I not allowed to have friends Michelle? I have told you on numerous occasions that I consider her to be one of my best friends and if a friend wishes to hold the others hand, it can be done so without the need to bring salacious thoughts to the fore".

"You swear!?" She challenged.

"On my honour". He held his hands over his chest as he replied.

His cousin let it go to be able to start their walk back to the Mallon household without any further conflict needing to arise on the journey. He would be returning home with them to rest for a couple hours before freshening up ahead of the walk to the Quinn house to pick up his car and drive Erin to the dance.

Erin his friend.

Erin his friend who always brought salacious thoughts to the fore.

_Always…_

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the school hall was out of the question when it came to the dancing that evening. Though Sister Michael may have been at the very least a friendly acquaintance to the McCool and Donnelly families, their connection to Michelle and Clare, and in turn the dance incident of earlier that month, was the explanation given for her forbidding it at the school. Instead, they would spend the evening dancing at one of the dance halls in the centre of the city, a plush location but one that came at an unusually reduced cost. Professor Joyce partially owned the dance hall and with some persuasion from James, had agreed to allow half of the fee for renting the hall out go for the night. He owed him as much due to the excellent job that he'd been doing with the Professor's finances. The downside to it would be Jenny's attendance and the worry that she might attempt to publicly advance upon him, which would prove to be most awkward when he was already accompanying Erin. _Though Erin obviously did not hold the same intentions as Jenny…_

Sat with Michelle, Erin and Clare, he'd done very well to avoid the young Joyce girl. She was definitely there, all eyes being drawn to her when she'd made her grand entrance along with a group of her friends. They were all deeply embarrassed with the spectacle she'd demanded, Aisling particularly, quickly integrating themselves into the dancing to avoid any further adverse behaviour from Jenny. The rest of the girls were all in different dresses to the ones they'd worn earlier in the day, mostly due to the stuffiness of the dance hall. They were all aware of how bad it could get given previous visits to the venue, changing into more comfortable attire for the evening that afternoon. James lost his suit jacket for the dancing to keep himself cool, retaining his gentlemanly look from the bow tie remaining on.

"So James, when are ye goin' back to England again?" Michelle enquired, with what he took as a grunt.

"Do not fret my dear cousin, I am not planning on going anywhere yet".

Erin, whose heart had stopped for a brief second to consider whether he'd withheld news of his departure from her, internally sighed in relief. It was just Michelle being horrible to him as usual, and as much as she hated her friend doing so, it was far better than the briefly considered alternative.

"Well ye never know, yer hand might be forced". She joked.

"Forced? Not by you though Michelle…".

"Aye of course not by me!" He was rebuked for the ridiculous suggestion. "I was thinkin' about those German fella's".

"Why the Germans?" Erin interjected.

"They're right angry fuckers them Germans".

Michelle's comment was not too far from the truth. Adolf Hitler's Nazi's were a dangerous government who had designs on prizes that went beyond the boundaries of their country. They'd already been allowed to annex part of Czechoslovakia the previous year just to keep the peace, an act that showed the sway they held over the rest of Europe. They might not have been alive to see it, but it hadn't been that long since the Great War. Memories were living on through their older relatives though, who'd always said that another war like the last should be avoided at all costs.

"I would hope war is unnecessary". James told her honestly.

"And if it isn't?" His cousin pressed on.

"I don't know. It… it's not something I like to think about really".

"Can we talk about something else Michelle? This is supposed to be a fun evening…". Erin complained to her.

A complaint which was wordlessly disregarded by her friend.

"Yer lucky, livin' here ye won't be conscripted".

"Michelle!" Erin warned again, to be completely ignored once more.

"Would you volunteer to fight James? I can't see ye with a gun, shooting at other people… yer too fuckin' soft".

Fighting in a war. James never wished to actively go into combat against anyone, favouring the art of diplomacy over any hostile negotiations. But if he were to fight, the life of an ordinary foot soldier would not be the one he would want to lead at all. Or be the one he'd sign up for.

"If it comes to war, I'll do everything I can to protect those that I care for… you included Michelle".

"What!?"

Erin managed to jump in ahead of Michelle to reply to his statement. He couldn't go off to fight… he could get killed… and then she'd be without him forever. _Did he not understand the damage it would do!?…_

"Only if it was necessary Erin". He clarified. "Let us hope that it will not be".

"You'd make a good target for the Germans to practice on". Michelle laughed.

"And you would make a perfect solider I think Michelle. In fact, I think you should be conscripted as a matter of priority".

"What the fuck are ye on about?" She challenged.

"You Michelle… you'd terrify those poor German boys. There isn't a bomb in the world that could compete with your dulcet tones".

His incredibly gentlemanly insult raised the eyebrows of both Erin and the previously unmoved Clare, watching whilst Michelle tried to process what he'd said. Being the one in charge of dishing out the verbal punishment on a regular basis, it felt very strange to be on the end of it for a change, an incredibly well-crafted end too.

"I'm goin' for a dance".

Huffing in defeat, Michelle rose from her chair and walked to the dance floor, instantly finding a fella to dance with. Erin, impressed by James dealing with her so stoutly without being truly offensive, turned her mind to their dance. They were yet to do so since arriving, favouring a drink and talking to the bride and groom before joining the crowd who were busy dancing. He was more concerned by Clare however, who hadn't said a word to any of them for a while. Sat in her seat opposite him, her face betrayed more than the usual level of worry that night. Clare was a kind soul and to see her with what appeared to be tears in her eyes, upset him. Tipping his head towards the diminutive blonde, he communicated his worry to Erin, who in turn agreed with him. The queen of the cack attack rarely remained completely silent; the unexplained difference in behaviour would need to be investigated.

"Clare?" James led them, witnessing his friend turn her head up to him at the call of her name. "Are you alright?"

"Fine!" She replied very unconvincingly.

"Clare… yer not fine". Erin took over. "If there's something wrong, tell us".

Holding a problem that couldn't be vocalised to them, or anyone, was difficult. Her father's actions were not helping at all, sitting on the precipice of where the unheard truth made itself a home. She couldn't blame him for wanting to find a good young lad for her to court and eventually settle down with. He was a family man with family values; wishing to pass those family values onto his daughter was a very noble thing for Sean to do. But he failed to understand the issue of matching Clare to a man. She held no attraction for a man when it came to romance or the even more delicate issue of sex. Against all of the teachings that a combined effort of the church, the school and her parents had drilled into her over a number of years, Clare was only attracted to other girls. She might not have been a man who liked another man, a crime that society deemed even more obscene than the one that she was committing, in the eyes of her father it was still that. A crime. A dirty, despicable, disgusting crime.

"I… I can't talk about it…".

"Ach come on Clare, we won't tell Michelle!" Erin playfully tapped her arm.

"It's not Michelle!" She angrily moved away. "I… I just can't tell anyone… alright, I'm sorry".

"We're worried about you Cl-".

"James!"

The young Devlin was spared from any further questioning when Jenny Joyce's recognisably cheerful voice called out for the English fella. Whilst she might have been spared, the wheel of fate fell unkindly on Erin. She was well aware from both James' admissions to her and listening in on conversations David had about it with Orla, that Jenny was trying desperately to secure him for herself. Yet to be drawn into any conflict with her competitor for his perfect, muscular body, her eyes narrowed on the Professor's daughter. For once she was alone without Aisling or any of her other friends available to back her up, but it probably wouldn't matter anyway. If she so wished, she could purchase James for marriage like Erin would purchase groceries on a Saturday morning shopping trip.

"Jenny". He replied cordially. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I am, so I am". She replied, surprisingly slurring her words to indicate an alcohol intake that was most unusual for her.

"That is very good to hear. What can I help you with?"

With what he could have only assumed was a rush of blood to her head, Jenny strode forward and climbed on top of him in his seated position. Finding no escape route, he turned his head to Erin to look for assistance, only to see that she was no longer in her seat.

"Kiss me". Jenny commanded him.

Completely unwilling to do so, and losing the battle to remain a gentleman, he was about to rebuke her in a way he'd never done to any other soul before when she was suddenly yanked by the hair and thrown to the floor. The music thankfully covered the shocking scene, otherwise everybody at the dance hall would have had their attention diverted to Jenny's slight figure on the wooden floor. Stood over her, Erin's face was charged with the power of thunderstorms, tornados and hurricanes, an almost murderous look in her eyes. He'd never seen a woman become so angered before, and he was not unused to seeing the rage of the opposite sex, having seen his mother's temper on more than one occasion at home in London.

Picking herself up off of the floor, Jenny rose to her feet to confront the attacker, an equally furious demeanour rising.

"Erin Quinn… I could have yer family ruined for that!"

"Catch yourself on Jenny! How dare you decide to attack James in that way!"

"Attack him! I… I wanted a kiss… we're to marry, aren't we James!" She drunkenly announced.

Erin's body threatened a complete shutdown, once again fearing that James may be hiding the truth from her. But upon seeing the disgust written across his face, her body was calmed.

"We are most certainly not Jenny! Now I apologise for your unceremonious departure, but me and Erin were preparing to dance. We do not require your rude interruptions".

"She's… she's…". The drunk Jenny slurred for a second time. "… she's of a lower class James. She's not one of us…".

"Lower Class!" Erin snapped back. "Comin' from you, steamin' drunk and ridin' him in front of all our families! Ye need to wise up Jenny!"

Not known for putting up even a verbal fight when sober, Jenny's type was the angry drunk. Opening her palm, she pulled her arm back to slap Erin square across the face, but found it caught in mid-air with a tight grasp on her wrist. James' grasp.

"I will tell you only once…". James's voice changed to one unheard of from him previously. "… I came here with Erin tonight, with the intention to enjoy the evening of her cousin's wedding and dance with her. I still fully intend to do so. I have a great respect for both you and your father Jenny, but there will never be anything between us and I most certainly do not wish to marry you! We are going to go out onto the dance floor… neither I nor Erin expect to speak to you again for the rest of the night. Understood?"

Ripping her arm back from out of his hold, a raging Jenny turned on her heel, storming off without another word to either of them.

Erin was frozen.

She'd seen a side to James that she did not previously know existed, a powerful entity within the charming and cheerful young man that she pined for.

That James.

That James only furthered her lust for him.

Caught up thinking about his commanding tones and how she wished he would command her to do whatever he wanted her to do, she hadn't noticed he'd taken her hand and led them to the middle of the dance floor. Behind her back, Clare gave James a thumbs up, a code he recognised as the coast being clear from Professor Joyce coming to give the Englishman a piece of his mind. She still didn't look too pleased though, James making a mental note to attempt to discover what ate away at Clare on another day.

Shaking the unholy images of James from her sinful mind, Erin complied with his request to begin dancing. It was a slow song that they could sway to, without having to put in any significant effort like some of the first dances had required. The type of dance where one partner could lay their head on the other's shoulder, where the other's hand could run down their back and tou-… _Stop sinning… stop sinning!_

"Thank you". James whispered to the barely functioning Erin.

"F… For what". She blurted out quietly in return.

"Saving me from Jenny. I cannot believe her audacity to climb onto my lap like she did. I thought I'd been clear about my feelings towards her…".

"She can't have ye!" Erin quickly stopped him in a panic. That continued. "I… I mean as in she's not right for ye… she only cares about money and not love. And yer my friend… I wouldn't want to see ye get hurt".

Pleased by her acknowledgment of their strong friendship, he smiled at her caring for him so dearly. He cared for her in the same way. He'd already made a promise to himself that he would make sure that whichever man was lucky enough to marry her, would be the right one. _A man that needed to be spot perfect…_

"My friendship with you is one of the most important things in my life. I could not jeopardise that by reneging on my offer to dance with you tonight. But my debt to you has increased also".

"James…". She tried to stop him, for multiple reasons, but mostly to remind him that he did not owe her a penny. Love came with no cost in her eyes.

"Come closer…".

_OH…._

_OH MY…_

Breath caught in Erin's throat.

It was the moment she'd been waiting for, the impossible dream that should have remained just that, was about to become reality.

_OH MY GOD I'M NOT READY!_

_ALL THESE DREAMS… AND I'M NOT READY!_

_I'M NOT READY!_

_I'M NOT READY!_

She didn't have the luxury of being unready as James had already leaned in. Pressing her lips up in anticipation, Erin closed her eyes, to be claimed by a world of hormonal bliss. The beginning of the most significant part of her life…

"Meet me in the fields by my cottage next Saturday afternoon. I have a surprise for you".

The moment was not… the moment. Whether she was ready or not did not matter at all. Instead of having his lips smothering hers, they were placed next to her ear.

Having her hopes crushed, she recovered her composure, although the mysterious meeting still at least kept the dream alive. And the surprise was for her… and her only.

"Erin?" He questioned when she failed to respond.

"Y…Y-Yeah, alright I'll come. I don't have surprises very often".

"Oh don't worry…". He whispered in a voice that was… husky, if anything. "… you will have your breath taken away".

Erin couldn't fault his logic. He was already doing a good enough job of taking it away right then and there, especially when his hands were on her waist, itching at her demanding skin which begged for more. More that was locked behind the gate of a dashing gentleman.

As the two eased back into their routine, they were unknowingly being watched by the bride and groom themselves. Those two were sat at their table at the head of the room, shared with David's brothers and Sarah, who were all either dancing or smoking.

"She seems to be enjoying it". Orla mused to her husband.

"That she does love… that she does".

"James doesn't believe ye then?"

"No. But I don't know how much longer Erin will control herself around him".

"Me neither… me neither".

Orla sank into David's chest, his hands wrapping around her and coming to rest on the bump of her belly. He began to stroke her stomach gently, an act which caused her to break out into giggles from her natural ticklishness.

"I love you Mrs Donnelly".

"I love you Mr Donnelly". She copied his statement. "Yer my wee Prince".

Accepting the title, David leant down to place a kiss on his wife's lips, one which would continue on for a few minutes without interruption.

Mr and Mrs Donnelly, together in holy matrimony.

Taking a second glance over the dancing couples, David pondered on how long it would be until the next wedding occurred in the family. With the close proximity of his friend and Orla's cousin, even if the former couldn't see the latter's unsubtle pining, he didn't think it would be too long at all.

Not too long until it was Mr and Mrs Maguire, together in holy matrimony.


End file.
